


Unlawful Evil

by Conduitstreetcat, HastaLux, theafternoonbreak



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dark Mycroft Holmes, Multi, Needles, Three Sadists in a Basement, Torture, Very Dubious Consent, mormor, mormorcroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-09-01 23:08:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 36,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16774768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Conduitstreetcat/pseuds/Conduitstreetcat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/HastaLux/pseuds/HastaLux, https://archiveofourown.org/users/theafternoonbreak/pseuds/theafternoonbreak
Summary: Mycroft Holmes has been interrogating Jim Moriarty for weeks, when Sebastian Moran is captured in a desperate attempt to free his boss.Mycroft sees a new opportunity, and decides to grasp it. Because he may be on the side of the angels, but he occasionally has quite demonic urges... and Moran and Moriarty seem just the people to indulge them with.As Mycroft and Jim discover they are not so different after all, who will rise to the top?Enjoy the story of the three sadists in a basement...





	1. The Pressure Point

Sebastian enters the room, wincing: the lights are way too bright, the walls way too white. Two chairs in the middle of the room separated by a table, and that is pretty much it. He curses out loud, his mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood. Those people weren't gentle, but he’s had worse - much worse. Where the hell is Jim? They told him he'd see him. He wants to. He needs to. Anytime, any time with Jim would be worth it. Especially if, like they said, no cameras are active in this room.

*

Holmes has stuck him behind the one-way glass - why? What can he possibly show him that he suspects would make him talk? The door in the room he is looking at opens - fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. How have they got Sebastian? He’s careful not to show anything on his face - Holmes can’t know that Sebastian is special to him; let him think he's just another employee - fuck, Seb, why didn't you lay low like I told you? Fuck, they've already hurt him. I'm going to burn you, Holmes. I'm going to kill the only thing you care about. Your baby brother will be a broken wreck and you'll stand over him crying your eyes out and _every. little. thing_ you do to Sebastian I'll do to Sherlock. I would have just killed him. But no. You just made sure I'll tear. him. to. shreds. He'll be begging to die.

*

“Sit down, Mr Moran.” Mycroft enters almost silently from a shadowy door, his eyes on the one-way glass for a long moment before they slide to the paperwork in his hand. Bit dramatic, but one does make use of drama when one can. “I understand you’re looking for someone.” He hooks his ever-present umbrella about the leg of one chair, drags it across the floor with a screech, taps it with the end to indicate Moran’s designated place. “Very desperate to see him, are you?”

*

Who the fuck is this man? Posh, like those losers at Eton. Jim wouldn't want Sebastian to talk to this man; Jim would want him to stand firm... Sebastian will admit to desperation to one person only. And only sometimes. He stares up, blue eyes into grey eyes, slowly licks his burst lip, tasting his own blood, and runs one hand through his hair, taking his time, a lot of it, before even considering the umbrella. Sebastian isn't a puppet, and definitely not for this man. "I'm not tired, _sir._ And I'd like to know your name."

*

Oh, Tiger. My gorgeous, stubborn fool. Don't antagonize Holmes. Tell him you are a lowly employee coming to bust out the boss and they may just lock you up for a bit. Don't get him angry. Don't let him do to you what he did to me. I can take it, Tiger. I planned for this, I prepared for this. I... could never take it if they did those things to you. God no. Please Sebastian, be sensible. Sit down. Tell him a nice story.  
Also, everything that Holmes isn't going to do to you, _I_ will, when we get out of here. What the fuck were you thinking coming in here against my _quite explicit_ orders? Who's taking care of stuff?  
Jim considers briefly if it might have been better if he'd confided in Sebastian, but the fool would have never let him go. He wouldn't put it past Seb to tie him to the bed to 'save him from himself'. Still. He'd never expected the sniper to actually disobey a direct order.

*

“That wasn’t a request.” Mycroft paces behind Moran and thwacks him in the back of one knee with his umbrella, square to the tendon where it will buckle straightaway, especially with the added weight of the gun secreted in the handle. Physical force is not typically something he would bother dirtying his hands with, but needs must. And Mycroft does, in fact, have _needs_. “You may continue to address me as sir.” He walks to the mirrored window, looking through it as though he knows exactly where Moriarty is. “I wonder if you are even capable of behaving. Not quite in your... nature, is it?”

*

It takes all of Jim's self-control not to flinch as he sees the hit to the back of the knees, sees Seb get down on the chair.  
_Mycroft. Holmes. You are going to suffer. So. Much. Your little brother is going to go through hell. I already have the most exquisite ideas._  
_Shut up Mycroft Holmes. Moran doesn't even address_ me _as sir any more._  
Jim scowls as Mycroft walks towards the mirror - that’s ok, they'll expect him to scowl at the man who has been ordering his torture for weeks now, the man responsible for the pain all over his body, his bruises, his sleepless nights, his freezing, painful days. He sees something in Mycroft's eyes - and a dark fear bites at his heart.  
He knows. He knows who Sebastian is. Oh God he's going to torture him in front of me to make me talk.  
He has to look down to prevent them from seeing the brief flash of despair on his face.

*

There’s a tapping sound behind Jim, a pair of low heels and the gentle clicks of data entered into a mobile. “Anything you’d like to say before he gets started?” The voice is soft, feminine. Anthea is effectively an extension of Mycroft, his voice while he’s in there with Moran. “Now would be the time.”

*

Sebastian didn't mind the blow to his knee, but he isn't pleased at all with his sitting position. He looks up at the tall, posh man, arching his eyebrows and torturing with his tongue the bit of skin that has been torn.  
"What do you know about my nature? Cut the shit and just tell me what you want from me," he replies, without raising his voice, sounding as practical and dangerous as he can.

*

Jim ignores Mycroft's assistant. He can't speak now, his voice would give him away. That shrew is nearly as shrewd as her boss. Also, he's not spoken a word before now to anyone but Mycroft, and only when the latter gives tasty titbits about Sherlock. If he suddenly starts speaking when they bring Sebastian in, that's going to tell them a whole lot more than he wants them to know. But the chill in his heart deepens. 'Before he gets started.' Mycroft is going to start on Sebastian, and he is pretty sure that he doesn't want to see what he will start doing.

*

“This isn’t about what I want from _you_.” Mycroft walks to one of the shadowy walls. There’s a click of metal on metal, the sound of a case being opened, something being moved within. “Now. I’m going to restrain you to that chair. If you resist...” he walks closer, uses his umbrella to nudge aside Moran’s shirt collar. “I happened to notice you have quite the array of bite marks. Normally we’d rip out the molars first - it’s quite painful, you understand - but in _his_ case we could always start with an incisor. Since you favour them so.”

*

Sebastian doesn’t fully understand what is going on but he’s sure he doesn’t like it. He isn't _scared_ , exactly, but he will need to use his brain. His mind. Jim hasn’t let him get this far, stay this long, just for his muscles. He sits up straighter. "You don't really want me broken, or fighting to the point of death. If you brought me here, it means I'm good material for a swap. You took me because you can pay something with me... Hurting me or killing me won't help you in any way. Not outside of here, not inside. If you wanna play let's play... But you look smart enough, _sir_ , to realize I'm not fucking with you."

*

Jim has to use all his strength to keep his face impassive, his breathing even. He keeps repeating the litany in his mind of how he is going to break Sherlock into little pieces before killing him. _Touch his perfect smile, Mycroft Holmes, and your brother will smile from the other side of his face. And you will never smile again._  
_What are you playing at, Seb? Be careful. Holmes is a fucking viper._

_*_

Mycroft arches a brow. “Half-credit, Mr Moran. Killing you is not currently useful. Hurting you, however....” He snaps one set of restraints to Moran’s wrist, attaches it to the arm of the chair, walks around and does the same on the other side. “Try and control yourself. I recommend not forcing me to restrain your legs as well.” He gives a nod to the mirror and Anthea flips a switch - suddenly Jim is visible.

*

Sebastian whimpers when he sees Jim, but stays very, very still. This fucking man is cruel and smart and it seems unwise to disobey right now. He needs to see what’s going on first. He needs to see what Jim wants him to do... He needs some time to study the situation. "Hurting me won't be useful either. I know what works and what doesn’t… this won't. Feel free to try, though. As you can see, I'm not desperately struggling, am I?"

*

Sebastian's whimper cuts through Jim's nonexistent heart with a red-hot knife. He knows his every movement is being recorded, he can’t risk signalling to Sebastian, even looking in recognition. He just looks on as Seb challenges Holmes. _Don't, Seb. You don't know what he's capable of._

_*_

“You know, do you.” Mycroft pulls something silver from his pocket, thin and long. His eyes flick to Moriarty. “Does he let you talk this much, Mr Moran?” The silver implement catches the light - a long, thick needle. He wraps a hand about Sebastian’s shoulder and lines it up with the divet just behind his collarbone. “The military does all this differently, of course. I prefer methods that leave no marks, no lasting damage, no mess. But it will be excruciatingly painful.” He pushes the needle through Sebastian’s skin and into the pressure point below.

*

This man... He is clever. Definitely clever. That thing, that needle, is something Sebastian recognizes... He does his homework, tries to keep up with current methods, if only to keep surprising Jim, satisfying him. So he knows what is going to happen, knows the excruciating pain of it. Knowing doesn’t help: his muscles instinctively tense and before he can force himself to relax the needle is pressing through his skin, hurting, hurting like... fucking hell. He groans, softly, trying to be as still as he can, so he can at least minimize the agony. Jim. This is about Jim... But why? What the fuck does this man want…

*

Jim can _feel_ himself tense, knows that Anthea can see it, tries to concentrate, to ignore it, to relax, but he can't - that needle. In that spot. It is as if he feels it in his own body, he _has_ felt it in his own body, only short days before, he knows the excruciating pain of it - but pain works differently for him than for normal people. He can shut it out, detach his brain from his body, suffer - yes, of course - but much less than other people. Sebastian doesn't have that. He's had training, of course - in the SAS, and with Jim - and can withstand quite a bit of torture, but that doesn't mean he doesn't _hurt_. It's different when Jim does it - he knows _exactly_ what he is doing and how much Sebastian can take, and Sebastian enjoys experiencing pain at his hands. This though - this is agony, pure and simple. He sees it in his face, trying not to show how much he's hurting. He has to squeeze his eyes shut, just for a moment.

*

“Hmm.” Mycroft is watching Moriarty, of course. He wraps his hand in Sebastian’s hair and pulls, tilting the alignment of his musculature just enough to make the needle hurt that much more. Then he yanks the implement out at an angle meant to wreak havoc on the nerve endings, reverberate the pain. “Anything to say?” Anthea asks once more, voice soft in the shadows behind Jim.

*

Sebastian isn’t new to torture. He has had it from those pale, delicate hands he is so devoted to; he has had it in the army; hell, he's been specifically trained to endure torture. He had been pretty good at that - but even so, the ache is immense. The burning seems to be now expanding all through his body from that specific point; he closes his eyes, groans as softly as he can, and thinks of Jim's hands. If it were Jim, he'd be good for him, wouldn't he? And somehow, it never has been more _for Jim_ than this.

*

Fuck. Fuck he’s never going to be able to take this. Physical pain he can do. But this... see that’s why it’s dangerous getting too close. He should never have let Sebastian get so close. He didn’t realize how far he’s let him get under his skin. It’s just so easy - he’s always there, so capable, so willing, just becoming an essential part of his life without him really noticing it. And now seeing him tortured hurts so much more than being tortured himself and what the _hell_ is that about? Jim Moriarty doesn’t do attachment.  
He steels himself, his face unreadable again, ignoring Anthea.

*

Mycroft gives another nod and the lighting in Moriarty’s room shifts again, blocking Moran’s view of his master. Inside it, Anthea comes over to Jim with a pair of handcuffs. “Put these on.” Mycroft, in the meantime, wanders to a hook in the wall, carefully hangs up his jacket and starts to roll up his sleeves. “I don’t suppose, Mr Moran, that you have anything interesting to say regarding your organization? We found it quite interesting, how thoroughly your identity has been removed from the public sphere - though not from _our_ records, of course. Seems a great length to go to to protect a mere sniper.”

*

Sebastian stares at the other man's movements, attentively, not missing a thing, even as his whole body is being shaken by a violent pain that, in time, seems to settle to a dull continuous aching, if he manages to be very very still.  
"You said it. I'm a sniper. No one fancy. Disposable."

*

Handcuffs? Are they going to put me in there? Not sure if that will be worse or better.  
Fuck, he’s shaking. Sebastian Moran is shaking with the pain and I will roast Sherlock’s feet over a small coal fire for days.  
He’s not going to believe you Seb. He knows you’re my... whatever it is you are of me. Live-in bodyguard. I just don’t know. Why is this upsetting me so? I haven’t slept for days… that must be it...

*

“Very disposable, I’m sure.” Mycroft hangs up his waistcoat with his jacket and strolls back to Sebastian, the needle twirling in his fingers. “You know, I was fairly certain your ‘boss’ wouldn’t talk, but I do believe now he’s _dallying_. All the marks on you before my people even got hold of you... Maybe he likes seeing you like this. Is that it?” He sets the needle over the other side of Sebastian’s collarbone. “Shall we find out?” In the smaller room Anthea ensures Jim’s cuffs are secure. Then she opens a door, points through it to another door that leads to Mycroft and Moran. “Go on,” she breathes - confident, but there’s a tone in there of worry, and hope that Mycroft knows what he’s doing.

*

Sebastian is staring straight into those steel eyes in front of him, doing his best to keep his breathing slow and steady. Slow and steady. Slow and steady. Just when he is about to open his mouth and say something, _anything_ really, he hears a movement. He turns his head, as risky as that is, and sees Jim... His eyes immediately flash in recognition but not a sound comes out of his mouth, there’s not even the twitch of a muscle from his body. If he and Jim get out of this alive, he'll have time to explain, to rejoice. Jim understands.

*

Seb. Oh god Seb. Holmes get your fucking long-fingered mitts off him. That needle... Oh Sebastian, I am _so_ sorry.  
Jim stands where Anthea has led him, quiet, looking at Sebastian and trying not to show anything on his face. He is good at acting. But he's never been exposed to this... these... fuck it. James Moriarty doesn't have feelings. Never has. Never will. _Then why do I feel like a red-hot knife is stabbing the inside of my chest?_ Fuck this. Fuck you Mycroft Holmes. Fuck your parents for ever conceiving you. Fuck your little brother. I will destroy everything you care about. Sherlock. Lestrade. Your parents. Britain. It will all _burn_

.

*

“Ah. Mr Moriarty. Do sit.” Mycroft hovers the needle over Sebastian, waits for Jim to sit before he removes it - no need to punish one while the other is behaving. Anthea closes the door and Mycroft takes a long breath. _So close now_. He smiles in that thin, icy way he has toward Jim, and stows the needle back in his pocket. “I feel I should not have to remind you, but if any harm is to befall my person both of you will be dead before you leave this room, and I’ve been given a great deal of assurance that it will _hurt._ ”

*

Sebastian breathes heavily for a moment when the needle is removed from the vicinity of his body. The pain is still there, but is slowly starting to subside. He glances quickly at Jim, trying to assess his state: he looks to be in one piece, pretty much whole and lucid. That is good, at least... Now must be the moment where this man will show his real intentions and where Jim somehow will manage to tell him what plan to follow.

*

Jim sits on the chair, his handcuffed hands on the table. He doesn't dare look at Seb too much, for fear of giving anything away, but he does let a quick glance fleet over him, taking in his burst lip, the expression of pain he's trying to suppress. No other injuries so far, it seems. He knows that Holmes isn't lying - which is why he hasn't strangled him with his handcuffs yet. _Keep going Sebastian. If we don't give anything away they will have to let us go eventually; they can't keep us here forever, they're the good guys, they're not allowed. I hope._ He looks at Holmes, his face impassive, his brain firing up image after image of Holmes being tortured, mutilated, and killed gruesomely.

*

“So quiet, the pair of you,” Mycroft notes idly. He circles the table, skimming his hand along the wall - at some point he must have pressed a button somewhere, since a metal panel begins to rise and cover the mirrored window. He waits for it to close, then sighs and rolls his neck. “Now we are alone.” _Wouldst thou then counsel me to fall_ , his mind adds in a distantly remembered quote. “There are no cameras, no recordings.” He turns. “And I find I have something of a proposition for you.”

*

Sebastian doesn’t look at the man, for now; he still looks at Jim, or his knees, alternately, trying to find a way to see what would be the best possible reaction. He wants to know more about this man who so smoothly decided to torture him (and Jim. Even if just emotionally, Jim too..) and who now, with this icy calm, has... some sort of proposition. For Jim, obviously - he is just a sniper. But this man isn't stupid, and he must know Sebastian has some significance in all this, otherwise he wouldn't be here, in this room... Supposedly free of cameras and recordings.

*

No cameras? Well, he'll have to take Holmes' word for it, won't he? So, that probably means that he's going to do some stuff that's outside of MI5's approved torture methods. Jim's been subjected to enough of the _approved_ methods to not relish the prospect. Especially not if Holmes is going to subject Sebastian to it rather than him. Fuck Seb, I'm going to kill you for letting yourself get caught. If Holmes doesn't beat me to it.  
Still. Let's hear this proposition.  
"Something of a proposition? That is rather less precisely formulated than your usual statements." His voice croaks - he hasn't spoken in a few days.

*

Mycroft’s cold eyes narrow sharply toward Moriarty. “So gratifying to know you’ve been paying attention.” He stalks back to the table and perches on the side, wrapping his hand firmly over Moran’s shoulder so his thumb is just over the same pressure point he has already so exquisitely exploited. He won’t press down yet, but it’s more to the point that he can if he needs to. Or if the mood strikes.  
“I am willing to make you both an offer. A bit of... service, in exchange for your lives and your freedom. Something,” his eyes gleam quite darkly, “unconventional.”  
“But you will need to play by my rules.” He looks steadily at Jim while letting his thumb just barely brush over the tiny mark he’s left on Moran. “Or there will be consequences.”

*

What the fuck is happening? The man is moving behind him, and starts to _touch_. Sebastian knows Jim could kill him in a heartbeat if he touched him the wrong way, so all his attention is focussed on staring at Jim and trying silently to communicate to him to please keep the fuck calm. To let him. Sebastian isn't afraid of pain, as Jim knows very well... It would probably be interesting to know what that _unconventional_ offer could be. The one thing that really has Sebastian keep his cool is his utter and profound trust in Jim's plans and brain. He just has to keep up, be careful, and resist any kind of hurt. His partner (yes, partner) will do the rest.

*

That gesture clears any doubt as to whether Holmes knows exactly what his pressure point is. He is negotiating with Jim, but threatening to hurt Sebastian. The bastard somehow knows what Sebastian is; how the fuck did he find out...  
Sebastian is staring at him, willing him to stay calm. He is staying calm, for now - Holmes hasn't done anything yet.  
An offer? Service in exchange for their release? That sounds... intriguing. Has Holmes finally given up on his attempts to get him to speak? What service could he want? Access to some of the more... nefarious circles of London, that he has trouble reaching? That... could be doable. He has enough information on Sherlock now to set his plans in motion. Being set free would definitely be most welcome to him, let alone to Sebastian. He would be willing to go quite far to please Holmes if that was on offer.  
"I'm listening," he says.

*

The thumb lifts, just a hair. “There are certain pleasures I enjoy that the Geneva Conventions frown upon. Nothing... permanently damaging, but unorthodox. I gather we are not dissimilar in that, Mr Moriarty,” Mycroft runs his other hand up the back of Sebastian’s hair, getting a nice, firm grip. “My colleagues wondered why Mr Moran seemed so eager to acquire you - I took one look at all his lovely _marks_ , none of them more recent than when we acquired you - well. Easy deduction. And very... inspiring.”  
“If you are willing to participate in something similar with myself - _both_ of you - I will arrange for your release, and you can return to your little intellectual contest with Sherlock.” He brushes his thumb over Moran’s collarbone again. “ _Or_ we can resume the current manner of questioning, and you can experiment with how long you can manage to stay silent while Mr Moran is treated to our particular attentions.”

*

Sebastian growls when the hand moves through his hair, but he doesn't dare move. What this man is asking is perverted, certainly, maybe a little unpleasant - who the fuck _is_ he? Doesn't he know how territorial and protective Jim Moriarty is when it comes to his things? - but, in the end, it isn't deadly. He just has to see what Jim wants, what he has planned, and how much real power this guy has over Jim. He isn't dead yet, either by his hand or his boss’, so he must be one of the big shots. Government, most likely.

*

"Pleasures that the Geneva Conventions frown upon? Dear me, Mr Holmes. Dear me. Hidden depths." Jim is trying to think. What on earth does Holmes have in mind? He's been torturing him for days now, sometimes himself, sometimes via minions. He didn't look like he was enjoying it overmuch - but then Holmes is just as good at masking anything he is feeling as Jim is. So, it looks like the choice is for him to watch Sebastian be tortured in legal ways, or for both of them to be tortured in illegal ones. On the one hand, the legal torture will be easier to bear, and will have to be finite, because they can't keep them here forever. On the other hand, he has no clue how long 'not forever' is, and it will somehow be... easier? to be tortured along with Sebastian, rather than watching him undergo it alone.  
"How long will your... pleasures take? And it's me you have beef with. It's me you've been torturing for days, longing to be able to get your hands on me without Her Majesty watching you. Let Moran go, and I'll be your most willing participant. I have talents you've never dreamed of..."

*

“How very touching. No, I don’t think so. He’s quite handsome, your sniper.” Mycroft pulls back on Sebastian’s hair, tilting his head up, leaning in close enough that his lips are almost touching Moran’s throat.  
“I can see why you like him. Do forgive me for our little display with him - part of that was a necessary measure for my colleagues, though I also thought it would be wise to... install a temporary off switch, as it were. Lest he prove too formidable.” He runs his thumb over the pressure point again. “And his off switch is more or less yours as well, isn’t it? Affection is a weakness I thought you were above, Mr Moriarty.” He lets go of Sebastian’s hair and runs his hand through it instead, almost like he’s petting Moran.  
“It won’t be terribly long - there would be too many questions if I were to keep you as long as I wished. Suffice to say it is a far shorter period than either of you would be here otherwise.”

*

It sounds sensible, even if Sebastian doesn't like this man, not his hand in his hair, not those lips so close to his skin. He keeps his eyes on Jim though, trying to communicate to him that it is ok: if Jim wants it, he can endure it. He really can...  
Of course, the sniper doesn’t even dare to think about saying anything out loud: the man would use it as leverage, and Jim would probably be furious with him. It’s Jim who calls the shots.

*

Well fuck. Still, it was worth a try.  
Looks like they have little choice. Suffering at Holmes’ hands is a given, they could just choose to suffer differently for a shorter period - sounds better, if better is in any way a word to use in this scenario.  
Trying to negotiate further is obviously no use. The more Jim shows he’s affected by Sebastian’s pain, the more Holmes will concentrate his efforts on just that.

However, if Holmes would hurt Jim... Sebastian, bless him, is rubbish at hiding his emotions. So if he could get him to start on him, and Holmes would see Seb is more affected by Jim’s pain than vice versa... it’s the only scenario he can think of. Right. Bring it on, fucker. Time to get you riled.  
“Well, Mr Holmes, you have us by the proverbial testes. So, fine. Live out your depraved fantasies on two helpless victims. Does that get you hard, during your long lonely nights in your big empty bed? Thinking up scenarios of torturing little guys in handcuffs? When do you come? Is it when I faint from the pain? Or when you cut off bits? What... makes... you... orgasm?”

*

Mycroft smiles thinly, letting out a slow breath, head tilting ever so slightly at Jim. It’s not a look many people get to see, the Ice Man with the fire of _want_ and _need_ and _desire_ burning behind his eyes. “Now, now. I’d hardly call either of you helpless. Speaking of...” He lets go of Moran and stalks round the table until he’s behind Jim. “Let’s ensure your off switch is working as well.”  
He drives his needle down hard into the same pressure point. “There, now you’ll be a matched set.” Mycroft twists the needle, angling it for maximum effect, and bends his head close, whispering. “You might get to see what makes me orgasm later. If you last that long.”

*

Sebastian is definitely able to hear that. It doesn’t seem Mycroft is really worried about him listening. Every inch of the needle inside Jim makes his stomach turn, and his eyes flash with controlled anger. "... we won't be able to help you out with your... plan like this," he says, voice soft but firm. "He's way better when he's able to move freely, take it from me."  
_Anything_ to change the focus from Jim, his Jim, treated like that, like he is just a body to be used...

 _Unacceptable_.

*

Oh, Seb. Wonderful, protective Seb. I’m going to kiss your face off after I’ve killed you when we get out of here.  
Ungh. That needle. He felt its painful attention just days ago, and feeling it again in the same place, cutting his already frayed nerves, is agony. He suppresses a moan, then remembers he doesn’t have to - it’s no longer required or even desirable to hide his pain from Holmes. Let the man enjoy his sadism. Just... no more with that needle, please. He lets the moan escape, just a little - Holmes will get suspicious if he’s suddenly all sensitive.  
He looks at Holmes’ face, and notices the naked lust in his eyes. Ah... good. “Sebastian is right, you know. I am really good, when let loose.” He licks his lips lasciviously.

*

“Mmm. Both of you agree on that, do you.” Mycroft wrenches the needle out. “Aren’t you familiar with the adage of saving the best for last?”  
Back to Moran, then. He can already feel the rise of adrenaline and endorphins that comes with gaining this kind of power over another man. Especially such a lusciously fit man as Moran. He stands behind Moran’s chair and leans down, pressing his cheek to Sebastian’s neck, sliding his hands over Moran’s thighs and grasping the edge of his shirt, pulling it up to show off the finely sculpted and scarred abdominals below. He raises a brow at Moriarty, tracing a finger along one of the deeper scars. “How many of these are your work, hm?”

*

Right. So, Mycroft is touching him now; in a way that unnerves Seb, simply because it hasn’t been earned. Who knows this man. Why is this man touching his body like someone gave him fucking permission... The only good thing is that, for the moment, his focus isn't on Jim anymore, and he has taken the damned needle out of him. What does he know about his scars, about his relationship with Jim, the loving ways they hurt each other. This man has it all wrong, and Sebastian has to fight the urge to correct him and show him all the ways he is devoted to James Moriarty.

*

Fuck you Holmes. Fuck your eyes, looking at my Sebastian with such hunger. Fuck your hands, touching him. Nobody touches what’s mine, Holmes. Fuck your ugly face. Rubbing against his perfect cheek. Sebastian seems unnerved, but calm. Looking at Jim, as always; looking at him to guide him, to tell him what to do, how to be; always full of trust, because Jim couldn’t hurt him, no matter what he did, because he is utterly devoted to Jim, would let himself be killed by Jim with a grin on his face; and that is what submission is, Mycroft Holmes, and you’ll never have that, never inspire such dedication in another human being; because you are weak, an ugly ferret that can only get off by abusing defenceless prisoners. You repel me.  
He shrugs. “I get urges too. But unlike you, I don’t have to kidnap people to get my leg over.”

*

“Rude, Mr Moriarty.” Mycroft licks a stripe up the side of Moran’s neck - not even appearing to enjoy it, more dominance than lust, glaring at Moriarty. “Do you often have such problems managing your mouth?”  
His hand comes up and traces over Sebastian’s lip. “You don’t have the same issue, I think, Mr Moran. He’s made you _obedient_ , hasn’t he. I see you, looking at him for direction.”  
He grasps Moran’s jaw hard and forces his head up. “You should really be looking at me.” Mycroft kisses him. Hard, rough enough to bruise, and keeps his hand clamped about Moran’s jaw just to make sure he doesn’t do something foolish like trying to bite him.

*

It takes all of Sebastian's will to keep his teeth closed when that man is running his fingertip over his lips... Biting wouldn't be good, in a setting like this. After all, rules have been laid out and tacitly accepted by all those present.. Maybe a little less by him and Jim, but that is just the way it is. All of a sudden he finds himself looking up, at that bloody man, those stupid clear eyes, nothing like the endless depth of Jim's dark eyes. It is way too quick, but when the man decides it is time to kiss... Well then, he kisses him. He will have his revenge, he is sure of it. Jim will have Mycroft's cock cut off and offered to him as a keychain, at least. He can handle this… for the moment.

*

Jim feels a growl coming up from deep inside his chest, at seeing that _viper_ kiss Sebastian. Somehow he hadn’t expected tongues and kissing being part of the equation, and it makes him furious. Sebastian Moran is _mine_ , Mycroft Holmes. Your horrible saliva soiling him is _unbearable_.

Still, I guess it’s preferable to torture. Just. Fuck, Sebastian, why did you get involved? He could have done this with just me. That would have been fine. A long hot shower and I’d be back to business. But how will I ever wash this image out of my brain?

*

Yes, yes, growl away Moriarty. Mycroft feels an extremely sadistic jolt of pleasure in gaining that sort of response - Moran is managing to be a good boy so far, however, compliments on that.  
When Mycroft breaks off the kiss he rises and walks round to Jim, grasps his cuffs by the chain and pulls him up and around to Moran. He pulls the cuffs over Moran’s head and behind his chair, more or less forcing Jim to sit on Sebastian’s lap, facing each other. “Amuse yourselves for a moment while I get a few things ready,” Mycroft says quite casually as he goes back to his shadowy case on the wall.


	2. Holding On

Sebastian suddenly finds himself with a lapful of Jim and the first thing he manages to do is kiss him, hungrily, desperately, almost achingly. It isn't a long kiss but it burns him up, his nose nuzzling the skin he knows so well. "You ok?" he manages to breathe out against Jim's skin, eyes closed shut, unable to stop himself. 

Maybe this could be good. Maybe they could put on a show for that fucker, maybe he'd let them enjoy each other, and in the meantime, plan something out.

*

 _Sebastian_. Oh god Sebastian. Jim feels almost grateful to Holmes. He’s been aching to touch Seb since he saw him walk in, and responds eagerly to the kiss, tasting him again, blood, fags, _Seb_. “Yeah,” he breathes back, because he is ok, right now his body doesn’t ache any more, he is home, he is with Sebastian, for just these few moments, everything else is far away. He grabs Sebastian close, pressing his body against his, ignoring the pain flaring up from his bruised ribs, just needing to feel him, hold him as tight as possible. “You?” he breathes.

*

Mycroft casts a disdainful glance back. _Sentiment._ Ridiculous notion, though somehow the idea that even the supposed greatest criminal genius of the time has fallen victim to it makes it more amusing. He returns with a few items in his hands and a few in his pockets. The first he uses is a simple clip to secure the chain between Jim’s wrists to Sebastian’s chair. “Don’t you two look cosy.” The second item he holds is a long, thick electrical cord, stripped and shredded at one end. He meets Moran’s eyes with a cruel smile as he drags the table out of the way and readies the cord. It curls like a whip when he brings it up. He snaps it down against Jim’s back.

*

Ffffffuuuuccckkkk... that hurts. The cable is heavy so there’s a lot of weight behind the blow, and every little copper wire bites into the skin of his back, tearing it in a myriad places. But. It’s not too bad. He has suffered worse in the past couple of days. And somehow having Sebastian here, having his arms around him, holding him close, makes it... much more bearable. He clenches his teeth, groans a bit, but focuses on Sebastian. Seb is here, you’re straddling him, you’re being hurt but it’s ok, you can bear this; if he’s hurting you he’s not hurting Seb, just imagine it’s Seb doing the hurting - that would be kind of hot. He holds on to Sebastian, breathes in his scent, braces himself for the next strike.

*

Fucking hell. He realizes what is going to happen when Mycroft meets his eyes and growls. Sebastian thinks quickly, does all he can to make it easier to Jim. He holds him close, kissing his shoulder softly, close enough to murmur words, low, very low, just for him to hear. "Easy, boss... I'm here. It's going to be ok, I'm going to make it better, eventually... It's ok, Jim. I'm here." His voice is soothing, as calm as he can muster, but fuck. Mycroft Holmes will die by his hands, if he has to wait years to do so. No one gets away with hurting Jim Moriarty without his consent.

*

A second strike, another, and Mycroft pauses briefly to look over his work. Not bad - it’s not one of _his_ tools, but he could only slip so many in - oddly this is a sanctioned torture method because it doesn’t cut very badly and tends to leave less marks days later than a proper whip. His lip curls - he can hear Moran whispering something, but that’s part of the game of having both of them, isn’t it, experimenting with how it works with a pairing. When he aims his fourth blow, he makes sure he catches one of Moran’s hands with it. There’s a cost to comfort.

*

White, blinding pain shoots through Sebastian, at the same time as Jim tenses, but he welcomes it, he had been trying to move his hand to protect as much of Jim's milky skin as possible from that cord. The only kind of torture he can accept for Jim is that brought by his own hands. At home. Even so, he has to admire the tool; precise, made to hurt but without permanent damage. He whimpers along with Jim, then presses his mouth against his neck, kissing and growling, whispering just sweet nothings, still trying to soothe them both.

*

The pain gets worse with every strike - some of the wires cut across the paths of previous ones and it's agonizing. Seb is kissing and whispering sweet nothings to him and it's odd, but it actually does help him process the pain. He holds on to Sebastian tightly, clenching and unclenching his fists and toes. 

Shit, Seb is trying to protect him and got hit on the hand - stupid idiot. "Sebastian. Move your hand out of the way. You need your hands, you're no use to me if you can't use them." Hopefully a direct order will make him listen and stop this protective nonsense.

*

Mm, interesting. Moran seems eager to protect Moriarty even at bruising cost to his own delicate fingers. _Sentiment, again._ Fascinating, the way these two hold each other, like it _helps._ Well, Moran is the more obvious physical danger of the two; it won’t hurt Mycroft at all if he has a harder time punching and shooting for a while. He snaps the makeshift whip again - five - and tries to catch Sebastian’s other hand with that one.

*

Right. His hands. Right. His first impulse is that it doesn’t matter; he'll happily die by Jim's hand later when it is done, but he can see a spark of reason in the order, and when the next hit comes down on both of them he moves his arm, just in time, at the last second, letting his fingers slide on Jim's skin and taking a slash right on his forearm. It still hurts, but it is ok, nothing he hasn’t experienced before... He just will have to be quicker than the other man and move after he takes aim. It can be done.

*

Ugh. The more strikes Holmes lays on him, the more painful it gets, as less and less of his back remains undamaged. Bloody sadist. Still, he can’t blame him - he’d do the exact same if the shoe were on the other foot. He’s never tortured two lovers at the same time though. It’s tempting to think he never would…

Fuck, Seb. “Sebastian. Stop trying to protect me. I’m already hurt, I’ll need you in top shape when we get out of here.” Hope he’ll swallow that.

*

Good. Mycroft will barely have to expend energy to work on both of them separately if Moran keeps trying to defend Moriarty. He pauses again, drapes the cord over his shoulders while he watches them recover, or try to. There’s no entertainment in this for him if he just keeps beating them, after all. Time to change tactics, perhaps. He sets the cord aside and retrieves a band of leather and metal from the depths of his pocket. Mycroft paces behind Moran and wraps it about his neck - it’s a choke collar, like one would use on a dog.

*

For a moment, the hitting stops. Sebastian has the time to run his hands all over Jim's back, lightly, trying to soothe him, lips pressing small kisses on his neck and on his shoulder, finally having a second to press one, fervent and brief, on his mouth. "Anything for you," he says so softly he could have just mouthed it, before the other man moves round and puts a collar around his neck. He doesn't know what will follow; he just stays very, very still.

*

Respite. If only for a moment. At least he can catch his breath - he suddenly realizes he's been holding it. Sebastian is trying to soothe him, stroking, kissing, and oddly enough it works, it _does_ soothe, having him here, holding him, kissing him through the pain, whispering his undying support. He hears Holmes stir behind him and tries to hear what he's up to - he's putting down the cord and moving over - he braces himself - but Holmes moves behind Sebastian and wraps something around his neck. A choke collar. Bastard. Seb's SAS training kicks in and he instantly freezes, holding himself still and breathing slowly. Jim finds himself following suit - he doesn't move a muscle, waiting to see what Holmes will do.

*

Mycroft allows another thin, sneering smile. He attaches another band of leather from the collar down to Moriarty’s cuffs, and unclips the cuffs from the chair. If Jim lets his hands fall too much, or relaxes his arms, he’ll choke Moran. If Moran tries to lean in to kiss Jim again, he’ll choke himself. Delightful. Mycroft doesn’t explain this, of course, but Jim is a smart boy. He’ll figure it out. After he sets them up he walks back around behind Jim and slides his hand under his chin, pulling his head up. “So much self-control you have, the two of you. Let’s test that.” His hand snakes around and palms Jim’s cock through his trousers.

*

What the fuck is this thing? A collar? It is unpleasant, sure, but Sebastian has endured worse. He can’t kiss Jim any more, but he is there still, he can talk if he needs to, otherwise, Jim can just focus on him. Jim will. Even now those filthy hands have started rubbing his cock... Sebastian knows Jim will get through this, and calms himself thinking of all the atrocious things he'll do to this man, in time. He'll destroy him, in time. He'll beg to die, and Sebastian won't let him.

*

Damn. A small part of Jim has to admire Holmes' devilishness - he now has the choice between being uncomfortable or choking Sebastian. And depending on how long Holmes will keep this up, he may not have a choice any more. He wryly reflects that fortunately Seb isn't averse to a bit of choking. The sniper doesn't look too fazed yet, mercifully. 

That changes when Holmes pulls up his chin and puts his hand on Jim's cock. The latter shrinks away from the touch, unkeen to make the acquaintance of this serpent in a suit. Jim swallows, but doesn't move.

*

Mycroft is mildly impressed - look how well all that soldier training works, and Moriarty’s reputation as impervious to nearly anything almost holds up. But Mycroft doubts anyone has managed to corner him into trying something like this before, at least not without him expressly permitting it in advance. He gropes ungently, rubbing until he feels the first twitch of response - biology can only resist so much. Then he leans down and bites Jim at the base of his neck, running his teeth up his throat.

*

Right: so that is the game Mycroft wants to play, huh? Sebastian knows he'll crack soon if he keeps being this angry and tense, so he decides to turn the tables a little. 

He is here. He doesn't care if Mycroft hears him, but he really needs Jim to: he won't be passive, watching this. He is here, and that has to count for something. 

He coughs once and let his mouth curl into a smirk, speaking low and smoothly without moving his neck, or at least trying to. "Gorgeous. You're just gorgeous, you know? It's ok. We are all here to see it, to see you. Your neck is pretty, and that skin is so soft… focus on the good, Jim. I can see you're a little hard... Gorgeous, gorgeous..."

*

Oh great they’re ganging up on me now. I thought I could trust you, Moran. I can see what you’re trying to do - but nothing could make me hot for Holmes I’m afraid. But it’s ok. I’m a small bloke - it’s not the first time someone will take what I don’t want to give. I could even pretend to enjoy it - that would unnerve you, wouldn’t it, Holmes? But no - we want you to enjoy this. The sooner we get you off, the sooner we get off. If you were not lying. Or change your mind. It’s what I might do... 

Jim groans a bit at the bite. Keeps looking at Sebastian. Sebastian’s eyes make Mycroft’s teeth more bearable. Some insane way.

*

Oh, this is precious. Look at Moran, thinking he’s helping. Sentiment is truly fascinating; Mycroft should have studied it earlier - so many interrogations would have been much more interesting with sentimental partners to use as leverage. He licks across the back of Jim’s neck and pops open the button on his trousers. He pauses, watching their responses, then bites down on the other side of Jim’s neck while he pulls down the zipper and slides Jim’s trousers and pants down past his arse, roughly cupping it and making sure with one forceful, dry stroke that Jim’s cock is out as well.

*

The mere sight of Jim's cock makes Sebastian's stomach turn, and he shuts his mouth. He had hoped Jim would find some solace in his words but, from the look in Jim's eyes, it isn't working. He waits, perfectly still and burning from frustration, hoping his presence will make things somewhat better for Jim.

*

Right. Little Jim’s come out in the open. For pain or pleasure Holmes? 

“I hope you’re not planning to damage that part of my anatomy too much. Moran is rather fond of it.” 

Maybe not wise to keep antagonizing the torturer, Jim. His brain, unbidden, shows scenarios of what he himself has done in situations like this. He can’t help but have a bit of admiration for Holmes’ game - bastard knows what he’s doing and does it well. Keeping them on their toes, alternating pain with humiliation and discomfort. You’d have made a good criminal, Mycroft Holmes. He looks into Sebastian’s anxious face. Tries to look reassuring. It’s fine Seb. Just keep breathing.

*

Mycroft rolls his eyes, visible only to Moran. “Hardly, when I may make use of it myself later.” 

He kneels down behind Moriarty, inspects the marks he’s left up close. “Do try and breathe a little, the pair of you. I am not so foolish as to think I can leave any permanent damage and then release you into the wild without repercussions.” He mouths over the bruises and the places the skin broke, pressing against them with his tongue. “I do, however,” there is a plastic click, the sound of something wet squelching, “want to see how far your self-control goes.” He wraps a lube-slicked hand about Jim’s cock, stroking very, very slowly, smirking at Moran and his collar.

*

Sebastian's eyes widen when he sees that hand stroking Jim, just like he... can. He sighs and bites his lip, but he resolutely stays very still; not just because of the collar, but mostly because he doesn't want to give that kind of satisfaction to Mycroft Holmes. He doesn't want to just fall into his trap. At least, he thinks, he is smart enough to realize that if he keeps up the torture and doesn’t kill them at the end of it, as soon as Sebastian is free again he is a dead man walking. Smart man.

*

Unhf. Holmes is good with those hands. And at least his... particular cravings don’t involve mutilation. Jim breathes a bit easier. Sebastian looks ready to murder Mycroft with his bare teeth. Aw Sebastian, you’re so adorable. 

Suddenly, the absurdity of the situation hits him. And he... just starts laughing. He can’t help it. The looks on Holmes’ and Sebastian’s faces just make it worse. He laughs until he has tears in his eyes and Holmes has let go of his cock, looking at him like he is unsure if he’s confused or furious. 

“Ah, you and I are so much alike, Mr Holmes. And Sebbie - you’re brilliant. Mission accomplished, soldier.” He laughs again when he sees both frown deeper, almost in unison. “Oh Mr Holmes. Having Britain’s two most wanted men under your roof and planning to let them slip away for an afternoon of pleasure? Absolutely brilliant. Exactly what I would have done. You can’t detain me for much longer because you don’t have anything on me, but Moran... he broke into a government facility, you could have had him locked up for a while, even used him as leverage with me. But you didn’t. And I fully understand. I thought the exact same thing when I first saw him. You just have to have him, don’t you? Oh, Mr Holmes, such hidden depths. You are not entirely on the side of the angels after all, are you?”

*

“No one who has ever worked in any form of government could willingly claim to be anything angelic... James.” Moriarty is clever, Mycroft has to give him that. No wonder Sherlock is obsessed. Normally he can get away with playing the torturer for far longer, make his partners beg him out of fear while hardly lifting a finger to actually hurt them - real torture leads to mess, after all, and Mycroft prefers things a bit cleaner. He rises and wraps his hand through Moran’s hair again, stroking instead of pulling. “It’s true, we don’t encounter many specimens like Mr Moran - Sebastian. Especially not ones with sufficient incentive to play along.” He turns to look at Moran. “But _really_ , you let him call you _Sebbie_? Ridiculous nickname.”

*

"You should see what I get away with. I can call him what I want and be barely hurt for it..." Sebastian deadpans, blinking up, still wary. Jim was laughing, and that is always music to his ears, that is always a good thing, even when he’s in maniac mode. It doesn’t mean he is in any way relaxing though, someone has to remain vigilant... Moving just a little, out of pure instinct now that Jim is so amused, moving away from that caress, makes the collar tighten a little around his throat. Just a little. He coughs and just lets his hair be... stroked by that man.

*

“So, _Mycroft_ ,” Jim drawls, as they are apparently on first-name terms now, “I’m keen to see a bit more of your ... demonic side.” He smiles lasciviously. Holmes has turned out to be _not boring_ , surprisingly enough, and remarkably akin to himself. He finds himself intrigued. And, yes - turned on. It’s been a while since Seb and he have brought someone home, and that guy was very much the suffering partner, before they disposed of him. Sebastian can be dominant when asked - but he only does so to please Jim, which kind of defeats the point. Jim finds himself actually rather... aroused by the thought of being at the mercy of an actual sadist, despite the memory of the electric cord still being fresh in his mind. That wasn’t pleasant, but... if he’d considered it sexual... it could have been. He licks his lips.

*

Mycroft arches a brow. This is an unusual turn - he does try to seek out participants who will enjoy his attentions to some degree, but Moriarty’s particular eagerness is more than he’s seen before. He hadn’t really expected _both_ of them to have a masochistic streak, even though Moran’s scars spoke to his. “Really,” he drawls, sliding his hands down across Sebastian’s chest until he reaches Moran’s trousers. He follows the same process he had with Jim, freeing Moran’s cock, which gets an appraising view. He then plucks a key from his pocket and releases one of Moran’s hands from his restraints and places it on Jim’s cock. “Stroke. Slowly.” It’s not really giving them more freedom - after all, the collar is still keeping them very well connected, and should either of them get too vigorous Moran is going to have a bit of a rough time.

*

A hand got free, then. An order spoken, even if not by Jim. Sebastian answers only to Jim. But it takes him just the time of a small glance to his lover's dark eyes to understand this isn't just needed... This might actually be appreciated. He twirls his wrist a couple of times, closes and opens his fist to make the blood run again, and moves his hand towards Jim. He is close enough, since Mycroft put him on his lap, and Sebastian has no difficulty in reaching his cock, wrapping his fingers around him - familiar, firm - and giving a couple of strokes. It feels good, like it is just the two of them. He goes slow indeed, his eyes staring into Jim's, trying to find the calm and the direction in them.

*

Jim is relieved. Things have gone back to order inside his mind. The earlier turmoil at seeing Sebastian, at having Holmes torture them both, not knowing what was going to happen, if they'd get out of here alive, with all appendages intact, not understanding Holmes' motivation - after all, if he was after some private fun, he could have taken Jim aside at any point - had been upsetting. Yet the pieces have fallen into place and it is Sebastian, once again, who is the key. Jim may be the genius, but Seb is his catalyst. 

He looks into Sebastian's eyes, seeing his doubts at this situation, whispers, "It's alright Seb. Just relax and enjoy what's happening. We're safe, we're going to be alright. You've succeeded in your mission to rescue me. You are brilliant. We're just going to have some... fun with our new friend Mycroft. He's an ugly fucker, but you've had worse," he winks.

*

“Don’t be rude.” Mycroft loops about to Jim and wraps one hand about his throat. “You said you wished to see my _demonic_ side, and I assume you meant the “fun” one, not the one that levels governments, so be careful what you say.” He applies a bit of pressure to the throat and runs his nails up Jim’s spine. “You aren’t home free yet.” Mycroft lets go and moves back to Sebastian, appraising. He settles on wrapping his own hand around Moran’s cock and stroking in a slow pattern, meant just to get him sufficiently hard. Meanwhile he rests his other arm on Jim’s tied ones, forcing Jim to resist the weight of gravity if he wants to keep from choking Moran too much.

*

Mycroft's hand is _touching_ him, but Jim has spoken... Clearly, and pretty long, considering the situation they are in. That helps, almost. He knows what to do, and even the ugly fucker is tolerable. He doesn't like him, but Jim is right: they’ve had worse. A part of Sebastian mind is still wondering if this could end like the other times they have taken someone home to play... Freezing severed pieces of them, after the game is done... He isn't quite sure. In the meantime his cock is getting harder, just watching Jim play, and he lets the other man stroke him. He’s very aware that Jim could choke him considerably more if he lets his arms go under Mycroft's pressure.

*

Jim goes quiet at the pressure at his throat. He lets Seb do this occasionally, but that is just as likely to end in him punching Seb as in increased arousal - he just isn’t too comfortable with having his windpipe constricted. He can deal with it this time though - Holmes is looking at him with excitement, not murder in his eyes. And those nails are quite delightful, with Seb still softly stroking. He lets himself shiver a bit.

The pressure is released, and he needs his focus on his arms while Seb is treated to Holmes’ attentions. He still doesn’t look too happy - but though Jim’s hands are tied, he can join in. He lets his arms slack a little, constricting the collar around Sebastian’s throat, looking him deeply in the eyes - “Relax, Sebbie. You’re allowed to enjoy this. You’re still mine.”

*

Mycroft watches the pair of them for a bit. So intriguing, how they work together. James is clearly the more dominant partner despite Moran’s much more formidable frame. Perhaps that’s the right idea. Mycroft could likely acquire a handsome soldier boy of his own, even if he has to pay someone for it. It appears to be the thing to do - even Sherlock has one. 

He pulls his key out again and releases one of Jim’s hands from the collar. He doesn’t have to direct them to touch each other, they’re obviously going to do that anyway. Mycroft unzips his own trousers and runs a hand over his half-hard length, the other pulling back on Moran’s hair so he can look him in the eye. “Suck. Even think about biting me and I’ll start finding things to break.”

*

Sebastian isn't too sure about that... But still, he bites his lower lip and nods, after glancing at Jim. It isn't the first cock he’s sucked just because the situation calls for it, after all. He glances up again at the man who is pulling his hair - _deliciously so_ , a part of his mind provides against his own will - and then he leans down. He will try at least to surprise: he takes the half-hard cock in his mouth all at once, relaxing his throat as much as he can with a choke collar on it, and ignoring the strangeness of feeling his throat being filled and constricted at the same time. It isn't the first time this has happened, either. Taking Mycroft by surprise is much more tempting than complaining.

*

Jim nods at Sebastian’s questioning look. You may hold the ropes, Holmes, but I’m still in charge of Moran. If I tell him to bite he will without hesitation. 

He uses his free hand to stroke Sebastian’s side, his neck, his arm, down to his cock, grasps it the way he knows he loves. Looks at Seb giving head - it’s good to see it up close; Sebastian is good at this, and the sight even slightly arouses him. Meanwhile, Seb is not giving up his strokes on his cock and this situation is getting rather more pleasant than he’d expected.

*

Mycroft’s surprised expression is mostly a highly arched brow - he’s too well-schooled against the idiocies of politics to let being taken aback really show. “Eager, are we?” 

His body responds more than his face, his cock twitching in pleasure at the lovely warm and wet, his hand almost involuntarily pulling harder. He might have to rethink some of his plans if Moran is this skilled, and make better use of him. What a lucky boy Jim is, having this all to himself.

*

All in all, it seems like his actions have paid off. Sure, Mycroft's face hasn’t changed much, but he has his cock right here in his mouth and the change in that, well, is impressive - almost interesting. The grip in his hair tightens and he decides to moan, so that the vibrations can please the politician, and maybe Jim will get a good show... Jim, who is grasping his cock so expertly, jerking him off like only he can, rewarded by his own hand - no matter how important it is to blow Mycroft Holmes well, he could never forget Jim.

*

Oh god Sebastian yes, moan for me. You have no idea how much I've missed that - have missed you. 

Huh. I really have. I had no idea that I... could miss people? I thought it was just being in this place that made me miserable. But it's so much better now you're here. Feeling you, seeing you, hearing you moan, even with your mouth around someone else's cock - it's fine, I know you're doing it for me. Loyal Sebastian. 

He looks at Holmes, sees the effect Sebastian's mouth has on him, despite his poker face - the light blushes on his cheeks and the glint in his eye give him away. He feels an odd sense of - pride. "He's quite something, isn't he?" he grins.

*

Mycroft actually has to swallow to ensure that his voice doesn’t betray his enthusiasm. “Oh, yes.” In fact, he may have to be a bit careful how much he indulges in Moran’s succulent little mouth - it would be far too easy to just rest there and ride his face through climax, and Mycroft has no intention to be done in so swiftly. Still, a bit of indulgence would be perfect. He pulls his hips back and thrusts forward, fucking Sebastian’s mouth, his open throat. “Did you teach him or did he come with these nefarious little tricks when you acquired him?” Seeing as Mycroft may want to take notes for finding a similar “project” of his own...

*

For a brief moment Sebastian _does_ feel the urge to bite down hard, spit the severed cock out, and focus his attention on Jim only, fucking him before leaving the corpse down there and getting back to business. Jim didn't _teach_ him how to blow someone. Jim just let him improve his practice. Jim, who sounds so happy with him it makes his own cock even harder, and his will to make Mycroft Holmes shut up even stronger... If he can’t do it the good old way, he' ll have to make him dizzy with pleasure. So, the sniper redoubles his efforts, focusing on the velvet voice of his partner, stroking him without fail while attending to that tall smart-mouthed man.

*

Jim lazes back in his chair as much as he can without choking Sebastian, and practically purrs, "Just polished the diamond a little, but he was quite astounding when I found him. He would be, having fucked half the Commonwealth. Don't worry, he's clean - he's a careful boy. But yeah, that particular... talent... was most welcome. Just added in a few personal preferences." And I'm not going to tell you that choking him whilst he’s giving a blow job is a particular one, because I don't want to tempt you to get too dangerous. But you do enjoy this, don't you Sebbie? Your cock is rock hard. And so is Holmes'. Careful, if you make him come too soon he might feel he didn't get his money's worth...

*

A sharp pull drags Sebastian off Mycroft. Yes, he is far too good at that. Dangerously skilled indeed. “Good boy,” Mycroft says, tapping Moran hard on the cheek and releasing his hair. _Lord_. He needs something to steady himself before he dives back into his own entertainment. Very well. If Moriarty enjoys showing off his pet so much, Mycroft can share the pleasure. He unlocks Moriarty’s remaining wrist first. This is, of course, the risky part - letting these two off the leash when Mycroft has kept far less dangerous men bound is, perhaps, somewhat foolish. But also potentially far more enjoyable. Either way, this is why he has ensured they each have at least one pressure point, so that he can drop them with little effort if required. He watches them closely as he frees Moran’s wrist from the chair.


	3. Closer

Free. At least his hands; Jim's hands. 

Sebastian wonders if it’s due to the amazing blowjob, but he has no idea. He doesn't care. Instinctively he turns to his lover - Mycroft let him go after all, all signs point to him being dismissed anyway - and kisses him, able for the first time to run a hand through black hair, down the soft skin of Jim’s cheek, hot, now - lust mixed with worry, need and excitement mingled with fondness... He doesn't speak for now, just places a soft kiss on Jim's jaw, one on his lips, and then he just strokes him a little more. He knows how to hold him, how to make it good.

*

Hands. Free. Sebastian. Jim briefly registers that he should be planning, should be careful, Holmes is _dangerous_ , but his resolve has been weakened a bit after days of no sleep and torture, and Sebastian is _here_ , holding him, and he gives in, just briefly, just... Seb... 

His arms fold round him, pull him close, chest to chest, mouth to mouth, and he kisses him, devours him; he tastes of home, of everything he didn't realize he'd miss, his strong hands holding him, holding him tight, he'd never let him fall... For a few precious seconds, Holmes doesn't exist, this hellish facility doesn't exist, it's just Seb and him, and he drinks him in, heady with the taste and smell of Sebastian. Reluctantly, very reluctantly, he lets his attention slip back into the room. They have to be good for Holmes, for now.

*

Freedom, and they only grasp at each other. _Fascinating._ Mycroft will definitely need to investigate such matters further, on his own. Not that he’s _jealous_ , but he has certainly never had the urge to _consume_ another person as James is currently doing to Moran. His instincts have always been... harsher. 

He clears his throat, the same strategy as employed when Sherlock and John forget he’s in the room and start snogging (though Mycroft is reasonably convinced that is a deliberate effort on Sherlock’s part to be irritating) and picks up the electrical cord whip. “You may trade positions or move to the floor or table, but I do require access to dear Sebastian’s back.”

*

Sebastian turns, feeling much better now that he has had a taste of Jim, and notices the whip in Holmes’ hand. He barely manages not to arch an eyebrow at that... If this is Mycroft's way of asking for attention, it works only partially. To be as attractive as Jim is, he'd need something a lot better... 

But still. It is a game, and Sebastian is ready to play, is even ready to feel the cords on his skin. He looks quickly at Jim, silently asking him what position he thinks would be best for them both. He knows Jim will know.

*

 ** __** _Right_. This is not _too_ bad - the cord hurts, but Seb's endured worse for him, from him. He'll not have any trouble with this, knowing it's a price he's paying to get Jim back. But it'd be even better if this could be fun. Seb looks at him, questioningly, ready to move however he wants him. Jim gets up, his muscles protesting - his body is stiff, and he's been tensely sitting in that position for a while. He gestures at Seb to get up too. Seb sitting on his lap would be awkward, but he wants to keep him close. "Sit on the chair backwards," he says, then when Seb has done so, eases himself between Sebastian's chest and the back of the chair. His left hand seeks out Seb's cock again, his right hand strokes Seb's side. "Ride the pain, my Tiger. It's for me." He kisses Sebastian, looks aside at Mycroft. Do your worst, Holmes.

*

Look at Moriarty, back to giving orders so easily. My, how he must keep Sebastian on a leash when he wants to. Mycroft has never once in his life been inclined to _take orders_ but he can at least grasp the concept, watching James, of why someone might wish to. Logical, since he’s ensnared a man who could otherwise snap him in half. But this... Moriarty is veering into co-domination, and Mycroft finds he is not entirely opposed to the concept. Yet he must ensure that he has the final word or the pair of them could see him torn to shreds and scattered across the floor. So perhaps he’s a bit rough when he drags Sebastian’s shirt off, when he strikes a bit harder than he normally would, just to prove he has the power to do so. _One._ And because he’s certain Moran can take it. Look at his scars - he’s had worse. The carved “M” is a vainglorious touch - he can’t help but shoot a slightly disdainful look at Moriarty over that. The _ego_ of it. It’s no wonder he and Sherlock are so twisted together.

*

It hurts, but fuck, who the hell cares. Jim's hands soothingly stroke Sebastian's skin, his words fortify him. Endorphins. That must be what lets Sebastian actually _ride_ the pain, even though Mycroft is clearly not holding back. The first stroke is harsh, almost unexpected, fast... The more rational part of Seb spots some sort of frustration in that. A lack of cool and control that speaks volumes about Jim and himself… 

He doubts Mycroft has ever met and entertained two prisoners that appeared, and felt, so _free_. Something about it is probably intriguing him though, or the politician would have ended it already with a bullet through his lungs or heart. Other strokes come, harsh still; but the harsher they become, the more painful and fierce, the more Sebastian feels proud of himself and Jim. He lets his forehead rest on Jim's shoulder, hiding a very little smirk, and groans with the next hit.

*

Holmes is getting frazzled. Ooooh, _interesting_. A disdainful look - ah, don't like how I autographed my art? Jim smirks. Seb didn't raise a single protest during the carving, Holmes. And that's what's unnerving you, isn't it? His unconditional dedication to me. You don't understand. Your people are only as loyal as their next pay cheque, or whatever dirt you have on them. This, this _personal_ devotion, baffles you. Well, have a good look. See if we can get that icy facade to crack a bit more.

Holmes is hitting harder than he did before - he doesn't like being nonplussed, clearly. But Seb's not fazed - Jim sees his smirk. And that moan - ah yes, he's gone into pain junkie mode. Well done Seb. It's great to be so close to your face, seeing your ecstatic agony. This is... really quite hot. His grip on Sebastian's cock tightens, trying to make this as pleasant for his lover as possible.

*

They are... still… cuddling? Very well; it’s a good note for interrogation strategies, regardless - his original inclination of keeping a couple separate and leveraging their pain against each other is far more effective. But this is not interrogation, and his goals are far less noble than simple information. He pauses in his strokes and removes Moran from the chair by his hair - Sebastian seemed to enjoy having it pulled earlier and Mycroft certainly enjoys doing it. 

“Kneel,” he growls, setting Moran between Moriarty’s legs, pulling his hips back so he’s arse end up, his mouth conveniently in range of seeing to Jim’s prick. Then he picks up the whip again, his strikes across Moran’s arse and the backs of his thighs.

*

Not too bad. Jim is still close - closer, in fact - and his arse and thighs are muscular enough to absorb a good bit of pain, keeping it bearable. In front of Jim's cock, Sebastian doesn’t hesitate for a second, deep throats it quicker and better than he did with Mycroft: he knows it, the shape and the owner are like a part of himself, and this is an area in which he is incredibly confident. He relaxes his throat - hands grasping Jim's thighs firmly - and gets to work.

*

Mmmmfffuuuuuuuck... Oh Holmes you're doing a brilliant job. Absolutely superb. You know how hard it is to whip someone properly while they're giving you a blow job? You really need a third person. Why thank you, Mycroft Holmes, for stepping in. 

Oh god Seb I've missed your magnificent mouth. You're going just that bit further than you did with Holmes, just a tiny little fuck you to him and showing your appreciation to me. Oh wow this is hot. Your groans against my cock. Seeing you tremble under Holmes' lashes. This is fucking great. We should do this more often... He grabs Sebastian's hair tight, indicating the rhythm he wants.

*

Well. Mycroft is learning all manner of things about the devotional relationships of psychopaths today. They both look more or less _thrilled_. It’s not an image that he expected to find erotic, really - he’s enjoyed delivering pain, instilling fear, but this particular reaction to his methods is entirely new and... attractive. Strange. Yet he can’t allow himself to dwell - to relinquish control of himself to the pull the view creates in his groin, hard as it may be making him once again. So he strikes Sebastian just a bit harder - Moran can take it - watches the lines of his body quiver under the blow.

*

It’s fucking good... the pain is increasing gradually and his body is getting used to it, riding it and enjoying it. The feeling of Jim's cock in his mouth, which was made for it, is a wonderful enough distraction that it dulls the pain just enough. He can’t see Mycroft in this position, but he can surely _feel_ Jim, his hands indicating to him how deep and how fast, and his breathing indicating all the rest. 

He can almost _sense_ his smirk.

*

"Well Mister Holmes, I have to say I certainly enjoy your personal hospitality a lot more than that of your minions," Jim states, keeping his voice steady with superhuman effort under Seb's attentions. This is... wow. Sebastian's response to the strokes, his eyes getting deep and dark with that familiar look, glancing up at him full of devotion, his little 'oomph's and the slight tensing of his muscles when the cord lands, it's all... getting a bit much... he realizes he hasn't had an orgasm in quite a while and if Seb doesn't stop things might... get out of hand and he's not sure how Holmes would respond to that. He pulls Seb off his cock by his hair.

*

Ahhah. So there is a limit to that copious self-control, James. Mycroft can see it waning when he pulls Sebastian off. Hmm. Mycroft could force them to keep going, force Jim to come several times - he’s tried it before, it’s a particularly delightful way to make men break. Yet - Sebastian’s mouth. Hmmm - oh, this could be a tremendously idiotic idea, but - 

He sets the other contents of his pockets - a few vials of lube, primarily - on the table, removes his trousers entirely and walks over to Moriarty holding out the whip, one brow quirking up. “Trade you places?”

*

There are voices speaking over his head, but Sebastian is past caring. The pull on his hair was welcome - Jim never tugs too hard, never too softly - and he pants, quietly, while the two men trade places. It gives him some time to rest, sitting on his toes, panting a little and regaining focus and strength. He looks up at Mycroft Holmes, face proud and unbroken, licking his lips in such a slutty way he could have mouthed _fuck you_ and had the very same effect. It isn't bad. Actually, it is good, it feels good being still at Jim's service - always - and yet holding on strongly to his own power. After all, it is mainly him who made Mycroft Holmes drop his pants; without a word, but definitely using his mouth.

*

Jim smirks at Holmes - “Excellent idea, Mister Holmes.” He looks at Sebastian leaning towards Holmes’ crotch, making such an attractive target. Holmes is staring at him, nodding at the cord. Ok, no respite for you, Sebastian. It’s fine - he’s in that mood now where more pain only pulls him deeper into that blissful state. And Jim has never been stingy with pain. He lifts his hand, whips down on Sebastian’s back, crossing one of the stripes Holmes left earlier. Relishes the twitch and shiver rippling through his sniper.

*

Mycroft sits down, running his hand over Sebastian’s hair to guide him back to his cock, not that he needs much help in that area. Christ, his mouth. There should be a law. 

And James - it’s intriguing to be on this side of things and watch the vicious little bastard work. Moran seems to be getting _more_ aroused by the pain - Mycroft has seen other such individuals in person only a scant few times, and each of those had been in legitimate interrogations. Having one in his “game” was... heady, to say the least. He can feel himself relaxing a bit, despite his best efforts to maintain a sense of control and power. It appears very likely that they _do_ understand his intentions and will refrain from attempting anything against him, but he typically does not let his guard down at all.

*

It's weird how Sebastian is convinced there will be _some_ kind of aftercare, sooner or later. He knows how to play hard, he has played hard without so much as a caress after it, but Jim somehow always makes it possible to feel good even when the adrenaline wears off and the pain aches a little more. He should be worried in a situation like this, but he's... not. Mycroft is crumbling under his ministrations and somehow that makes him smile around his cock... Jim's hits are perfect, just perfect. The fact that Jim is the one delivering the pain makes it just a little better, and his body was already in full pain rush... He moans around the politician's cock and keeps sucking, relaxed enough to welcome all of it, pain and pleasure mixed together.

*

Holmes appears to be enjoying himself, but he's still wary. Jim can't blame him - he's got the two most dangerous men in London with their hands, and, eh, mouths free, and both he and Sebastian have a reputation for being perilously unpredictable. He frowns - Sebastian's back is starting to be pretty much covered in marks and blood. He's going to have a hell of a time when he comes down from this already - he's not too keen to damage his back further. However... a particular personal favourite... 

"One second," he tells Holmes, kneels down, and removes Sebastian's combat boots, then his socks. Puts the boots down sideways, leans Seb's ankles on them, his toes on the floor, so the soles of his feet are stretched. Takes aim, and lets the cord lash both soles at once.

*

Mycroft’s eyebrow goes straight up to his hairline. That Moriarty not only goes for Moran’s feet but that it appears to be not the first time he’s done so... well. Mycroft has to admit his own preferences, save what he can do with a needle and an extensive knowledge of the human nervous system, are arguably slightly less cruel. “There’s antiseptic,” Mycroft nods toward the table; there’s a bottle tucked in amongst the lube. “If it’s required.” Generally Mycroft tries not to make his... companions... bleed - for one thing, he doesn’t care to deal with the cleanup should any get on _him_ , for another, if they’re in his custody an infection would draw too much attention to the nature of the injury. But as he’s letting these two back into the realm, he supposes at least they can deal with any health issues on their own.

*

The hit on his feet isn't really unexpected and Sebastian takes it well, just letting out a scream, low and muffled by the cock he is currently attending to. The hurt is there, but the endorphins - his whole body is so immersed in sensation he really doesn't feel how badly they are abusing his body... 

Mycroft is talking about antiseptic, his brain provides. That probably means blood... Oh, well, Jim loves it. Still, he isn't sure how things will work out this time: if he will have to run, or defend Jim after this. In the privacy of their relationship he knows he is safe (so to speak). 

What about Mycroft Holmes? Will he kneel and help Jim making him feel better, good enough to get back to work?

*

Ah, thank you, Mister Holmes, so sweet that you care about my sniper's wellbeing. You know he'll be picking people off again the moment he's well, right? But you don't care, when your own fun is at stake. Dear me, Mr Holmes, you and I are so much more alike than you'd like to think. I think I may have been playing with the wrong brother - you are equally clever and so much less boringly predictable. 

Holmes' mention of the antiseptic could be seen as permission to stop, which is nice of him, but Jim's never been one to play _nice_. _He_ will decide when Sebastian's had enough. Which is soon, but not _quite_ yet. The cord bites down another time, and another - and a fourth for good measure. He _loves_ Sebastian's responses to having the soles of his feet tortured - they're so sensitive, and even with his excellent training he can't suppress his reactions. He glances at Holmes - he must be getting an excellent mixture of moans, screams, and beautiful cocksucking.

*

Yes, Mycroft is starting to feel decidedly less evil by comparison the more he watches Moriarty work over Moran. Well, only in that he has never been quite so ruthless yet - there’s always time to further his studies. Perhaps there’s a way to add a few queries to their psychological screenings to look for aficionados of pain he could better exploit like this... 

That will have to be dealt with later, however, because - Sebastian Moran’s _mouth_ continues to be ridiculous. And having someone moan like that, twitching in time with strikes against their flesh is positively heavenly. Mycroft feels just a little bit more of his control slip away.

*

It’s all starting to feel a little fuzzy, as if he is underwater. Usually he lets himself sink into the feeling, but Sebastian isn't sure this is a safe place to do so. Nonetheless, sounds and movements feel like they belong to someone else and his attention is absorbed alternately by the strokes on his skin and the cock in his mouth... It takes a real effort not to bite down on it, but luckily, Sebastian has had a lot of practice giving head. Faintly, he ponders how much more he will be able to bear... He knew he is good at it, and that he is giving an excellent show of his endurance capabilities, but it is starting to get a little extreme, by now. His cock is leaking, ignored for the moment, but he doesn’t let that distract him; eyes closed shut and mind so focused on what he is doing he isn't able to really focus on the rest. A perfect moment to shoot him in the head, thinking about it.

*

Jim stops. He can't see Sebastian's face, but he can read the signals well enough. He needs a break, if not a complete stop. We'll see. 

He walks to the table, picks up a clean cloth and the disinfectant, walks back to where his lover is still sucking Holmes' cock, with utter dedication to this delicate art. He moves over, touches Sebastian's shoulder, squats down beside him, kisses one of the cuts on his back, licks it, enjoying the shiver it causes. He licks another one, which is still bleeding, sucks it to get some of the blood out - Sebastian's blood tastes of guns and whiskey and home... Also, he knows it unnerves people when they see him smile at them with a mouth stained with blood - not that it's the first time that Holmes has seen this. But at least it's not his own blood this time. 

He pours disinfectant on the cloth and starts carefully cleaning Sebastian's wounds. Don't know where that cord has been.

*

This continues to be intriguing. Moriarty does have a tender side - further evidence that should leverage be required, Moran is clearly his weak point. And vice versa. Moriarty still requires his attentions, of course, he hasn’t received them nearly as thoroughly, but he’s content to let Moran keep up his lovely bit of cocksucking while James tends to him - Mycroft doesn’t wish to do it himself, and wandering about this particular floor with injured feet is a recipe for a staphylococcal infection. 

He keeps a guiding hand on Moran’s hair, not overly rough, but enough that he won’t have to think at all about the pacing. James is trying to unsettle him - very little does that, but the thought is nice. Mycroft has decided he’s rather appreciative of Moriarty’s absolute unwillingness to really submit. It’s almost... refreshing.

*

The hand in Sebastian's hair makes it easy to not think about the task his mouth has been set to, and the warmth of the mouth on his back is making it all better. All fucking amazing. The hits have stopped and Jim is tending to him, kissing and caressing, disinfecting the open wounds and drinking his blood. It is probably some big perversion, but Sebastian loves it, the soft brush of those soft lips, the teeth barely felt, the tongue lapping him up... It’s intimate, and it almost feels like devotion, translated from James Moriarty's language. He knows how to decode him. Still he sucks Mycroft's cock, mechanically almost, while he lets his senses, his mind, and even his heart be warmed by Jim's actions. Fuck Holmes, once again. As soon as they will be up and running, and he'll be healed, they will decide what to do with him.

*

Jim keeps cleaning with care and concentration. He’s always very diligent about aftercare. Sebastian is precious to him. He is careful with his favourite toy. 

Most of the cuts are quite shallow. He cleans Sebastian’s back and feet, looks appraisingly at Seb’s arse and legs, but there’s no blood on the trousers; it’s unlikely that they are more than wealed. He bandages the feet - these floors are not that clean - and pulls Sebastian’s socks back on. Then he gets up, puts the disinfectant back on the table, leans against it, smirking at Holmes. “How do you want me?” he asks.

*

Ah, yes. Moriarty can _deduce_ too, Mycroft must remember that. He gently tugs Sebastian off - let the man have a bit of time to recover. Moriarty is a tricky puzzle. He isn’t susceptible to fear. Mycroft’s already seen torture applied to him with little effect. And, perhaps strategically, he’s beaten his one weak point, Moran, hard enough that Mycroft cannot do much more to him without risking further damage. Hell of a way to protect one’s assets. Well, perhaps the basics would be best. Mycroft strolls closer, nudges Moriarty’s legs apart and gives him one firm, rough pull from stem to head, just to make sure he hasn’t flagged too much while he’s been ministering to Moran. 

“Bend over, James.”

*

The fun has shifted, but the only thing that Sebastian does in response to that is to sit up properly and take care of his own erection... He wishes there were a couch, an armchair, something of that sort, but nope, Mr Holmes decided to play in sparse conditions. His voice sounds firm, but still respectful, when he asks Jim to bend over... The latter complies, and Sebastian takes a moment to admire the curve of his ass. Gorgeous, always gorgeous; and his, always his. No matter how many men enter Jim, Sebastian knows better than to mistake it for betrayal... Jim has never cheated on him _once_ , and yet he’s fucked hundreds of people. Beautiful Jim, bending over and just playing along... Will Mycroft be surprised Sebastian isn't angry at all, he briefly wonders, but then shrugs it off as insignificant.

*

He grins broadly at Holmes. "As you wish... Mycroft." Lifts his arms in the air like a ballet dancer, turns on one foot, bends over the table with an exaggeratedly elegant flourish. He looks back, sees Sebastian sit down, staring at him, feasting his eyes quite lasciviously on his arse, looking utterly at ease and rather turned on by the prospect of Jim being fucked by Holmes. Loyal Seb doesn't have a jealous bone in his body - or rather, he does, but it's nothing to do with how many people Jim fucks. He'll happily pick up any guy that Jim indicates and bring him home all trussed up and ready for him, then dispose of him afterwards if required. But if Jim pays too much attention to one person for a prolonged time... He's been getting touchy whenever Jim talks about Sherlock. He doesn't care about the fucking, but he's not too happy about sharing daddy's attention.

*

Mycroft rolls his eyes. The flair for the dramatic, of course, yet another indication that perhaps Moriarty and Sherlock are a bit more aligned in spirit than he’d really like to think about. And Moran doesn’t look at all jealous. My, aren’t they a progressive couple. He reaches for the lube - Mycroft does like a bit of pain involved when he plays, but he doesn’t break his toys (well, unless one counts mentally, but _really_ that part of it was simply handling a threat to the nation in a creative fashion) so there will be at least a perfunctory warming up. He also has a latex glove that he slides on one hand - lord knows what sort of games these two normally play, and it does save on the mess. He slicks his fingers and glides them down over Moriarty’s hole, no warning given before he begins to work the first one in.

*

He'd join them on their playground, but he is just too exhausted. There is a dull ache all over his back, and under his feet of course, but he knows the cuts aren't really deep and he'll feel better soon, even be healed, in a couple of days, more or less. Mycroft is using lube, and a glove, even, like he'd shock Jim by not giving him the same attention you'd offer a blushing virgin. Jim is probably loving that to bits. Sebastian's eyes stay glued to his boss, ready to jump up as soon as required.

*

Oooh, a latex glove, Mr Holmes, how _delightfully_ kinky. Yes, thank you for the careful preparation. Most appreciated. His eyes lock with Sebastian, who still looks a bit dazed, but happy. Excellent. Best case scenario, really. He also looks ready to dash up and break Holmes’ neck if Jim so much as nods, but that’s normal - Sebastian could kill people in his sleep. It had taken a while before they had been able to share a bed safely, Jim not being used to having people near either. But he seems happy enough where he is, so long as Jim won’t show any signs of discomfort - and it doesn’t feel like he is going to. Holmes’ fingers know what they’re doing, efficient rather than gentle, but it feels... good.

*

Ah, good, everyone relaxed and happy. Mycroft smiles coldly. Best time to remind them of the real arrangement here. One hand within - two fingers - finds Jim’s prostrate and strokes, but his other hand slides up and over Jim’s shoulder, pressing his fingers down into the pressure point he wrecked earlier - not hard enough to make him pass out, which is theoretically the purpose of doing it in the first place, but enough to create a very interesting combination of pain and pleasure. “Mr Moran, if you’re feeling up to it, you may come sit on the table and _James_ here can see to you as you saw to him. I am not sure how often he gives you the pleasure but I imagine it’s less often than you see to him - may as well take advantage, hm?”

*

Does he feel up to it? Hell yes. He barely nods, but keeps his eyes on Jim, trying to see if _Jim_ feels up to it... 

It seems so. After all, up to this point, his company has made him feel better even when it hurt. It is with a mixture of need to protect him and sheer lust that Sebastian moves closer, positioning himself in front of Jim, on the table. He runs one hand over Jim's face, tenderly caressing it just for a moment, like a _normal_ lover, without saying a word. He notices, of course, the wince of pain and is ready to push Jim aside and kick Holmes right in the balls, but maybe, just maybe, Jim is OK with it... A little pain never turned him off.

*

Ohhh, Holmes, that's good; excellent finger work. Hmmm, that piano practice was good for something... oh _fuck_! Not the pressure point - fuck, that _hurts_. Jim can't suppress a moan. Ah, interesting work - mixing agony and ecstasy, one of his own favourites. _Seems us sadistic bastards are much alike, Mr Holmes..._

He opens his eyes when he feels Seb move onto the table. If you are _quite_ finished pressing, Mr Holmes, that would be good? So I can concentrate on 'Mr Moran'? Because Mr Moran more than deserves my full attention for getting me out of this hellhole, as well as for being unreasonably sexy? Seb strokes his cheek, and he looks up into the familiar face, sees the murderous expression. He smiles - it's OK, Seb, it really is. I don't mind a little pain.

*

Mycroft releases Jim’s shoulder - that was a pleasing noise, though, he will have to keep that in mind in case he wants to hear it again. So devoted, aren’t they, pleased they can keep their contact even while Mycroft does whatever he likes. As to that... He gets a condom on - again, Mycroft has no intention of being sullied by whatever Moriarty’s usual habits are - and pulls one of Jim’s arms behind his back by the wrist, leaving him only one arm to balance on. It’s not a comfortable position. Mycroft thrusts in one firm motion, a low noise escaping him at the tightness of it - one of the benefits of keeping prisoners without access to conjugal visits. And in the meantime, as Sebastian is focused on his darling lover, Mycroft palms his needle from the table.

*

Mycroft fucks Jim quickly, harshly, suddenly. That was probably intended to make an impression on him, but Sebastian is too focused on Jim's reaction to really care about Holmes. He saw the needle being palmed, of course. Jim probably didn't, engrossed as he is in his sensations, but he did... It is his turn to be careful, to be there for the two of them. Unfortunately, Sebastian knows there is very little he can do but brace himself for what is about to come, and be right in front of Jim, helping him out with one hand so he has a little better support, and enjoying the pure beauty of his face experiencing the pain and pleasure.

*

Jim opens his mouth to receive Sebastian, as Holmes puts on a condom and enters in one forceful move - he'd not expected niceties, but it takes some concentration not to grit his teeth. Instead he moans softly against Sebastian's cock. He tries to concentrate on relaxing his muscles; thank you Sebastian for supporting my upper body, makes it all a bit less tense; this could become enjoyable, just relax, Jim, you're not a virgin; but it's different not being the one in control. Normally when he lets himself be fucked there is no doubt of who is in charge, and having someone else call the shots... makes it harder to unclench. However, even though he's not in command of the situation, he is master over his own body, and pretty soon the sensation has ceased being painful. And he has to admit... being filled on both ends is rather alluring. He is starting to really enjoy it, when he feels Sebastian tense. What?

*

Good lad, Moran, holding him up like that actually makes it easier to aim this properly. Mycroft smirks at the sniper and lines up the needle to a point in the dip in Jim’s pelvis, thrusts deeply, and stabs downward. He doesn’t need to thrust for a bit, because there’s no way Jim can keep himself from clenching up and that feels- “hnnnhg”- ever better than usual. Wonderful. He doesn’t keep the needle there very long, switching quickly to the other side - he doesn’t need these delightful patches of nerve endings to be quite as wrought as those in the shoulders, but the effect here is far more delicious - if you happen to be inside someone while doing it.

*

There is something in that smirk that somehow feels like complicity... And Sebastian is hit by the feeling before he realizes what’s happening. Sebastian is used to torture, he knows how to make someone beg and scream, and a small part of him _appreciates_ the technique. He also knows, deep down, that sometimes Jim likes a little pain... He holds him during those staggering pains, groaning because Jim is sucking harder at the same time. Fuck, it feels good. He doesn't care how wrong it is - not until Jim will tell him.

*

Fuck!!! That fucking needle again. Fuck you, Holmes, and your modern interrogation techniques. 

That needle is brutal and he has to keep still through it to minimize the damage. He also has to not look _too_ pissed off or he might set Sebastian off. So he closes his eyes, breathes through the pain, which is _difficult_ with a mouth full of cock. I’m going to have my revenge on the both of you... As the needle finally leaves, and he opens his eyes, he looks up at Sebastian. That look... he’s _enjoying_ this?! Fucking sadistic bastard. Jim can’t help but appreciate the irony of the situation. Put three sadistic psychos in one cell... _I wonder how this little game would go if you didn’t have your minions all around, Mr Holmes... I think the pecking order might well be entirely different._


	4. Scars

Lovely. Managed to take James Moriarty by surprise, how many can say that? Mycroft shifts his hold on the needle so it’s more like a pen. “Now - I saw how many _lovely_ marks you left on Sebastian - you do like those scars, don’t you, Sebastian? - and, did you know, I have an extremely good memory.” He traces a line across Jim’s shoulder that rises red. “Now, I did say I wouldn’t give you anything permanent - still true, so don’t get too excited, Sebastian,” he draws another line, “but a temporary recreation of those same marks on a new canvas will look _just_ lovely. Don’t couples like matching tattoos and such these days?” The needle’s point won’t cut as deep as a knife, and it likely won’t bleed much, if at all - he’s right, it won’t scar, not like Moran’s. But there are an awful lot...

*

Sebastian's scars were collected in months, probably years. Each and every one of them has its own story, whereas Jim would have just a map of Mycroft's ego drawn on his skin. Not exactly what he'd choose for him…

But he has to admit it does look pretty nice. Dark red blood over porcelain skin, thin lines, because the needle is doing its work superficially. The sniper looks down, checking his lover's reaction, and smirking when he discovers him finding it... bearable, maybe even pleasant.

"I don't know. Don't you have someone for yourself, to use as your personal canvas? A partner could be nice...

And that line, that's a little shorter and on the left."

*

Fuck off Holmes, those scars aren't all mine. The _good_ ones are though.

He feels the traces the needle leaves on him and recognizes each and every one, sees them glow on his mental map of Sebastian's back, a fantasy land with mysterious hills and vales and contour lines... and some straight roads. Jim is very proud of the large M on Sebastian's back, always reminding him of his ownership, the complete and utter devotion the best fighter in London awards him. Sebastian's snark to Holmes makes him smile around the cock in his mouth - Seb's mouth has got him into trouble so many times, but usually gets him out as well.

*

Mycroft’s eyes rise slowly to Sebastian. How quickly the mouth on him recovers.

“Do you know why it’s bad to criticize an artist while they’re working, Moran?” He drags the point of the needle against the space between Jim’s shoulder blades as he thrusts hard, perhaps suddenly less concerned with precision. “They can change their plans mid-stroke to something you don’t like.” A line down, a matching one just on the other side of the spine, and a line across.

It’s not an M, of course. It’s an H.

*

If that fucker thinks that H means something, he's sorely wrong. Sebastian will change it as soon as he's out of here. In this very moment, Sebastian wants nothing more than to carve an M right on Holmes’ fucking corpse. But except for the light in his eyes, he stays very still and unfazed, caressing Jim's face tenderly as the latter sucks him particularly well. He doesn't say anything, despite thousands of comebacks entering his mind in less than two seconds, just out of love for his Jim, but chuckles softly, letting the sound transform in a moan. "I think it's pretty neat actually. Surprised?"

*

You utter fucking twat, Holmes. God, what a distorted pathetic parody of what I did with Moran. You don't get it, you'll never get it, you'll never own anyone, who'd be devoted to you? A so-called brilliant mind trying to save this wretched excuse of a country from ruining itself, running yourself ragged, receiving nothing but ulcers and a mansion echoing with emptiness to get home to. Your own brother thinks you're a prick, and he's your best friend - it only goes downhill from there. Go ahead, carve your entire fucking name, address, phone number in my back - you'll never ever come close to invoking in anyone the fiery ecstatic agony I induce in Sebastian; because that's fucking magic, and you, sad, pitiful man, sorely lack the touch.

*

_Yes, yes, boys, steel your faces all you like; I can see that pulse of anger._

Mycroft goes back to what he had been doing - marking out Jim’s other shoulder. He’s let go of Jim’s wrist by now - if he didn’t fight back while Mycroft was putting an H across his back, Mycroft assumes he’s going to stay in position.

“Very little surprises me, Sebastian.” It’s a reasonable approximation - but Mycroft has been picking up speed with his thrusts again, because fucking Jim while he’s silently raging is _delicious._ His conquests have leaned toward intimidation, not anger - anger is quite fun, as it turns out. Maybe he should test that more often.

*

"I surprised you. Don't think _we_ didn't notice." And it really is _we_ , because all through the madness Jim and Sebastian keep checking in with each other, share their thoughts more or less silently, keep moving in tune. Sebastian can feel the anger radiating from the smaller man, who lets Mycroft move into his body like it is someone else's. Poor fucker may well be convinced this can break them.

He keeps stroking Jim's cheekbone with his thumb and decides Jim deserves just as much attention as the impostor is getting, so he just glances down, flashing his lover a slightly insane smirk, _knowing_ he is ok, just feeding on his anger.

*

Right.

That's it, Mr Holmes.

Daddy's had enough now.

Jim looks up at Sebastian, seeing his smirk, knowing he will know what he wants, what he needs; because he always does, it's almost telepathic. His eyes move slightly, upward and to the right, and then he lets Seb's cock slip out of his mouth at the same time as he clenches down on Mycroft's cock just as it is at its deepest point. Sebastian moves fast as his feline namesake, grabbing Holmes' wrist from where it's making a mark on Jim's shoulder, steps around him, and with an enormous grin twists it behind his back, pulling him out of Jim and forcing him to bend over the table, as Jim slowly rises, winks appreciatively at Sebastian, and grins down at Mycroft. "Did _that_ surprise you... Mr Holmes?"

*

Regrettable, this turn of circumstance. _Got too eager, Mycroft, should have left them safely bound_. _Shouldn’t have let Moran irritate you into pressing Moriarty’s ability to behave. At least you were smart enough to keep actual weapons out of the room_.

Mycroft doesn’t bother testing the hold - it’s been an age since he was qualified for fieldwork and Moran is undoubtedly far stronger than he was even at his peak. Not to mention that mucking about with it likely risks a dislocation. “It was on the list of considerations,” he breathes in a strained voice against the table. “Though I will remind you that if you kill me you’ll never make it out of this building.”

*

It is fun.

Really, it is.

What was Holmes thinking anyway? He pushed a tiny bit too far. He, personally, doesn't like that H at all. The wrist Sebastian is holding is delicate. In the back of his mind he has to admire the coolness Holmes displays by simply _staying still_.

Jim is glorious. He looks beaten up, bloody, gorgeous...

The sniper has to stop himself from breaking Holmes’ neck and just throwing Jim on the table, fucking him like an animal.

"I'm almost hurt. Do you trust us so little, Mr Holmes?" he says, eyes up, always in contact with Jim. All this is only possible due to the fact they spent years perfecting their rapport. Now, they can start having their little fun... And like this, bent over and strained, Mycroft Holmes looks almost interesting.

*

“Killing you? Oh no, Mycroft, don’t be _obvious._ We’re just going to have a little fun, much like you yourself have been having. And it’s _been_ fun, hasn’t it, Moran? But I could only lie back and enjoy your attentions for so long. It’s only fair I return the favour.” Jim strokes Holmes’ cheek, lifts his chin up until he is upright, undoes the buttons of his shirt; removes it and his vest, Sebastian’s movements as always perfectly synchronized with his intentions.

He picks up the needle. “Now, Mycroft, I very much appreciate you teaching us new techniques, but to be absolutely sure I have understood, I’ll have to practice under the eyes of the master. So... here, was it?” He places the cursed needle next to Mycroft’s right collarbone.

*

 _Ah. Damn._ Mycroft does not look directly at the needle, he keeps his eyes on Moriarty, glaring coolly. He’s been tortured before, of course, but that was years ago, before this sort of technique grew popular, and most of it was work-overs by some enormous man named Bruno or Drago.

He runs his tongue over his teeth. “Bit more to the right.” He does have to admit a grudging respect for the sheer tenacity of the pair of them. He hasn’t gone easy on either of them and yet both are standing, energized and motivated, and Mycroft is the one left with his arms pinned in Moran’s grasp. He grunts, clenching his teeth around a snarl when the needle begins to push against the nerve. His arms instinctually strain against Moran’s hold - there’s a reason he did this when the pair of them were bound. _Fuck._

*

"isn't he pretty, Jim? Such a pity he only has us to play with, this time." Sebastian comments, voice just slightly loaded with irony, comfortable now, keeping him still with a firm grip, letting the other man lean against him when it seems required. He even tilts his head enough to give a little lick on the curve between Mycroft's neck and shoulder.

"Quiet, now... It's not that bad if you find a way to redirect the energy and the pain. We are going to be good for you, aren't we, _boss_?"

*

Jim relishes the effect the needle has on Mycroft, his face trying to remain impassive, but his eyes giving away the agony that Jim only so recently experienced himself.

But he hadn't been Holmes' only victim, and it was only fair that Sebastian get his revenge too. He pulls the needle out carefully, then gets the handcuffs, slips them around Holmes' wrists. He doesn't trust himself to keep as iron a grip on him as Sebastian has. He hands the needle over to Seb. "Now, let's see if Mr Moran has been paying attention as carefully as I have," he grins.

*

Mycroft lets out a breath, suppressing a growl when the needle is extracted. He’s rather loath to admit it, but Moran’s tongue on his neck is somewhat... arousing. After all, if Mycroft were inclined to be overtaken and ravished, Moran would be precisely the sort of man he would wish to do it. But now Moriarty has him in cuffs, and it’s his slimmer frame Mycroft is pressed against rather than Moran’s expansive chest. And he doesn’t quite trust Moran to work that needle as precisely as Jim managed to. “Let my hands go and I can mark out the spot.”

He doesn’t expect them to, but one does like to keep up a good face in such circumstances.

*

Sebastian's eyes find Mycroft's, calmly, even if he shakes his head a little, looking... disappointed. "Mr Holmes. You're underestimating me, and that is really hurtful, you know? I am a sniper, and I’m Mr Moriarty’s right hand. I know how to hurt without killing. I know very well which points to press, I’ve had my own share of practice. See?" he says, pushing the needle right into the nerve on the left side, slowly and methodically. He knows it hurts. He also knows how to moderate the pain, making it lasting but just bearable.

*

“Mr Moran has more precise aim than anyone. I’m really disappointed you’re hurting his feelings, Mycroft. After all he’s done for you.” Jim passes Mycroft’s bound wrists over to Sebastian, then grabs the latter, kissing him eagerly, finally, for the first time in freedom, in charge. It’s so good to be back on top where he belongs. Reluctantly he lets his Tiger go - it would be rude to ignore Mycroft now.

He nods to Sebastian, who uncuffs Mycroft and holds his wrists in front of him. Jim picks up the needle and scratches Mycroft’s back, gouging deeply - no one is going to judge _him_ for this. Not an M, which is the first letter of Mycroft - he scratches a J; then, smiling broadly at Sebastian, an S.

*

 _Christ._ Mycroft gets through the blinding pain of Moran working on him by clenching his jaw and bottling the urge to cry out, then breathes through the lingering effects as he pair of them _snog_ beside him.

He rolls his eyes. Ridiculous. He feels a faint flutter of concern when they rotate him again - having James Moriarty at one’s back is always enough to set off certain internal alarm bells - and the needle again, carving something - _oh._

If that scars, James, I don’t care what little games Sherlock wants to play, he’ll never find your bodies.

Still. It doesn’t _feel_ bad, to have his skin torn like this, it actually feels... sensual, in a twisted sort of way. And Mycroft is a tall man, he’s up close to Sebastian’s height, which means he’s close enough, held as he is, to smirk at Moran and lean forward, like he’s open-mouth kissing the needle mark he left on Moran’s collarbone, and gently press his teeth down.

*

It doesn't feel bad, at all. Sebastian is glowing with pride and having genuine fun: what Mycroft is doing only adds to it, a pain very close to pleasure, now more than ever. He lets him, moaning shamelessly at the sensation, holding the politician close to him while Jim is drawing his masterpiece. Fuck, he _loves_ him. And this is exactly how things should be, Mr Moriarty leading the game, ruling the place, with him supervising and helping out.

J and S, and Mycroft had better like it. Probably is liking it already, since a quick glance downwards shows him still very much into the game. "He's an artist; you don't have to worry, Mr Holmes. If you relax you'll see it's quite fun to play with us." Unable to resist, he keeps his grip tight with one hand and uses the other one to squeeze Mycroft's cock gently, just to make his point.

*

Mmm, Holmes seems to be taking this not too badly. And Sebastian is positively _beaming_. Jim can’t help smiling at his sniper - he’s like a puppy sometimes; well, a puppy who is delighted whenever sex is happening and he gets to be involved; which isn’t really like a puppy at all, come to think of it. But he’s always so up for anything Jim can think of. And so altruistic - he seems to genuinely want Mycroft to join in the fun. And to be fair, Holmes doesn’t appear to be too uncomfortable. But he’s not finished with him yet. “I think it’s time to reward Mr Moran for his kindness. Seb, put the cuffs back on. Holmes, on your knees.”

*

 _Play with us. Lord._ Moran is basking in the pain and _toying with his cock,_ which is frankly making Mycroft feel a bit heady despite the sting on his back. He has the urge to glare back at Moriarty and remind him that he does not take orders from him or anyone else. But - _but_ \- that will probably nudge things in a less interesting direction, and having had a decent look (and feel) earlier at Moran’s cock, he is not terribly opposed to the direction this is probably heading - other than the lack of control it means for him. When Moran has him cuffed again, he sinks to his knees with a grumble, a conflicted expression on his face. He wets his lips, fairly certain he will be appreciative of the moisture momentarily.

*

"Aren't you _pretty_ , like this?" Sebastian coos, leaning relaxed against the desk and looking down at the storm in Mycroft's eyes. "No worries, no need to answer; do something useful." He grasps his cock and stroking it once, pushes it between the other man's lips with a calm and steady thrust. "I won't even mention not biting me. You're a smart man, aren't you Holmes? Everyone seems to think so anyway." For the moment, it seems like Holmes is: he feels a tongue run over his shaft, a little reluctant in sucking, but not hurting him at least. He lets himself look up at Jim, a little smirk on his lips, eyes gleaming. This is fun, he has to admit...

*

Right; Sebastian has his cock in someone, so he is happy. Holmes can’t have had much practice but he’ll pick it up, Jim is sure. “Now, Mycroft, let’s test that self-control you are so famous for. I’m going to use your favourite toy, since it’s given us so much pleasure.” Jim picks up the cord, smiles at Sebastian. “Needless to say, any unpleasantness that may result for Mr Moran’s cock will be revisited on yours. Do you think you will be up for that?” Jim strokes the cord over Mycroft’s back, passes his hands through his hair.

*

 _Pretty?_ That has to be the first time anyone has called Mycroft _pretty_. But he can suck cock decently, even if that particular use of skills rarely comes up in his preferred games. And Moran has a nice cock, so overall things could be worse.

Jim, on the other hand... Mycroft does feel a tentative wave of panic, not for the pain - he can deal with pain - but for the risk he might inadvertently close his teeth on Moran. Moriarty is taking a hell of a risk that he won’t damage his favourite toy, doing this, and Mycroft has absolutely no interest in risking his own prick on the endeavour either.

So he cheats. Mycroft opens his throat and lets Sebastian push deeper, so when the blow hits he’s more at risk of gagging than biting. _Fuck_ that hurts. His knuckles go white, clenched against the next.

*

Mycroft's throat is hot and warm, and Sebastian likes how deep he can push in. It seems like he has not much of a gag reflex anyway, and of course, this kind of situation prevents any kind of biting, even if Jim uses the cord...

Jim, with the cord, is equally dangerous and intriguing. The sniper knows he's going to make it good, or, at least, he will make a show. Sebastian follows the cord with his eyes when the first hit blows down on Mycroft's skin and braces himself, but nothing happens. Mr Holmes has admirable control, it has to be said.

*

Good. Jim had assessed that Holmes would be able to gauge whether he’d be able to control his mouth, but it’s a relief to see it confirmed. It would really be a shame if Sebastian’s cock were to suffer.

He’s enjoying getting his revenge with the whip. That thing is nasty; he appreciates the amount of pain it causes without deep damage. He’ll definitely add it to his repertoire. Sebastian seemed to enjoy it, after all. But for now, it’s Holmes who needs to suffer and he’s relishing that. Bastard Holmes who’s been torturing him for weeks. Bastard Holmes who is on the side of the angels and using the devil’s methods. Bastard Holmes who thought he could have _Sebastian_. He keeps hitting, hard, overlapping his hits.

*

 _God fucking damn it._ Mycroft can’t fault Jim’s technique, though he would argue that he has himself been _slightly_ less enthusiastic. The pain is just as delightfully excruciating as he’d thought, and he can’t help a few grunts that escape when the pace of the blows increases and he’s unable to keep Moran down his throat for all of them. _Fuck._ He restrains himself from biting down out of irritated, pained frustration and spite and instead lets out an irked growl around Sebastian’s cock and simply dives in harder. Maybe if he can make Moran come it will cut down on Jim’s timeline of retaliation.

*

Nope, nope, nope... Sebastian groans - Mycroft feels good, he really does - but that isn't how Jim has planned it. Not how _he_ wants it. Quickly, he moves his cock away from Mycroft's mouth, stroking it with his hand.

"You shouldn't be so eager, Holmes. Take your time, enjoy your cord. I know how it feels... Do you like it? You do look like you’re… struggling a little. Think about this next time you consider hitting me, or my partner, with it." With Mycroft handcuffed and safely bent, Sebastian is able to move, walking behind Jim and hugging him from behind, placing a tender kiss on the curve of his neck and wrapping his hand with his own, guiding the cord with him. "Just joining the fun for a little while, _boss._ "

*

“You take over, Moran. Go for his arse and his thighs.” Jim hands the cord over to Sebastian, kisses him deeply, then moves over to crouch in front of Mycroft. He strokes his cheek, bends over, kisses him, as Sebastian starts whipping. Looks at his face, enjoying the winces of pain, the gritted teeth.

“Just relax Mycroft... enjoy the pain,” he whispers sweetly. “Enjoy being in the hands of someone stronger. It can be so good to let go... You never get to let go, do you, Mycroft? Always responsible, always in charge... Now, for once, you can let go... It’s alright, we won’t tell anyone. You can even cry if you like.” He strokes Mycroft’s hair. “If you let go, you’ll get what you wanted. You’ll get to fuck Moran. You’ll get to come inside him. Wouldn’t you like that? Just let go, Mycroft...”

*

Really, James? Is this what you did to Moran to make him into your little fucktoy? Soft touches and words while you carved into his back? I am not joining your twisted little harem and I have no intentions of _crying_ , you utter psychopath.

Mycroft growls, even though he’s shuddering under the blows. “You can’t break _me_ , Jim.” It’s a slow burn, but the emotion Mycroft is most at risk of tipping over into is fury, not some sort of hedonistic indulgence in sensation - he doesn’t _do_ that. Even if he _would_ like to fuck Moran. Very much. Mycroft Holmes doesn’t _let go_ , and he especially doesn’t _cry_ ; the very concept is offensive to him.

*

The hits keep falling, but Sebastian never loses control. He focuses on the man in front of him, on those pale thighs and legs, on the groans of pain... But that doesn't mean he isn't aware of the discussion between Jim and Mycroft. For a second - brief, light, fleeting - he even feels jealous of the tenderness Jim is displaying... Holmes doesn't deserve it.

And it appears that in fact, he doesn't appreciate it: he is getting angry, almost furious. He is getting colder and closed off, and that isn't what Jim wants, is it? He keeps hitting, rhythmically, wondering what Jim will do now. It isn't easy to predict, because Jim's mood can be changeable and mercurial, especially when he is in this kind of situation: will his partner insist on cracking the shell and seeing what is underneath, or will he just get angrier and more cruel?

*

"Oh well," Jim shrugs, "your loss."

He hadn't really thought Mycroft would give in, but he hopes he's sowed _something_ in his mind.

"Now, what shall we do next? Not fuck Moran, unfortunately. _So_ sad. He's _realllly_ good. So, we've avenged the horrors inflicted upon us so far, but _we're_ not supposed to be on the side of the angels. _We_ don't risk ruining our entire career if anyone finds out what we've done. So, Holmes... Short of killing you or maiming you so badly that you can't talk to your minions any more, there's nothing that we really can’t do, is there? What do you think, Sebastian, could you bite off a toe? I bet you could." He looks at Mycroft, his face unreadable.

"Weeks you've held me here. I'm not going to recount the things you've had your people do to me because I'm not sure Sebastian would be able to control himself. What's stopping me from taking these weeks out on you... Mycroft?"

*

Mycroft glares, wincing as the blows fall, Moran still working on him, but eventually trailing off to listen to Jim.

 _Monologue all you want, Moriarty, if that makes you feel superior._ His face shifts, drawing himself back on his knees when Moran finally stops hitting him, cold and calculating.

“There’s quite a few things you can’t do, actually, seeing as _I_ have to give the order to let you walk. Which means I have to _want to._ So. Anything you do to me you do with my permission. Or when you try to walk out of here, I’ll have them kill Moran in front of you, slowly, and then they’ll bring you back in for another three weeks of fun before they kill you, my brother’s little infatuation be damned.”

There is, after all, a reason he is called the Ice Man. He looks coldly into Moriarty’s eyes. “So make it _interesting_ , or don’t bother at all.”

*

That is too much. Sebastian, without letting the cord go, wraps one arm around Mycroft's throat, pushing him back against his body, hard and firm. He might get a little blood on him, but he isn't as squeamish as Jim can be, especially when the blood isn't his own.

" _Be polite_ , Holmes. I am doing my best to be nice but I didn't like this. I can assure you he's quite interesting; and your beloved army taught me how to be _interesting_ quite a few years ago." He doesn't really do anything more, for the moment, just keeping a strong grasp on the other man, ready to let him go or choke him at the snap of fingers.

*

Jim keeps a wary eye on Sebastian, but for now he seems to be in control. "Keep it cool, Moran," he warns, just in case. "Ah but _Mycroft_ , you forget, what will happen if they see what you've done to us?" His face changes, suddenly terrified, tears flowing from his eyes, panicked movements. "... you have to help us! He just turned... into a _madman_! Look what he did to us! He _raped_ us! He's going to kill us!!" Falling to his knees, his hands raised in a plea, his voice choking in panic, "Please! Please, I beg you, take us away from this beast! I'll do anything... anything... please..." a choked sob, then he looks up at Mycroft with a big grin on his face.

*

“When I am the one cuffed and equally beaten? You forget these are _my_ people, James, not the average idiot on the street. Every single one of your marks could have been delivered in the usual course of torture - all approved at the highest levels, of course - and anything else could have been your own twisted games once you got free.” He smiles coldly, even with Moran’s arm about his throat. “I know you are used to playing your games with my brother but do try and recall that _I am the smart one._ ”

*

This is starting to be a little too much and Sebastian tightens his grip _just so_. Mycroft shouldn't speak, not if he isn't spoken to, and Jim deserves some time. If he has to die because he snapped Mycroft's neck in half, well, that isn't the worst way to go. "... this is not how it goes, Holmes. You probably should have thought a little more before making Jim this cross with you. Such a pity, I was having my own share of fun."

*

It’s a risk, and Jim doesn’t really want to find out what Mycroft’s minions are willing to believe. So, well, it’s probably best to keep things, as Holmes said, _interesting_ , rather than completely ruin him. “I do think I’ve been playing with the wrong brother, don’t you think, Moran? Sherlock is so easy - pull the strings and watch him dance; but this one has a core of steel,” he smiles. “Alright Mr Holmes the Elder, let’s keep things... interesting.” Jim walks round and crouches behind Mycroft, takes off his shoes and socks.

*

Mycroft makes a strained little noise, not quite choking but not able to speak either. My, but isn’t Moran protective? How _sweet_. And Moriarty seems to have a modicum of respect for him, which is about all he can ask for, especially considering the precarious nature of this game for all involved. And honestly, he’d be _into_ letting Moran choke him a little if it weren’t for Moriarty sneaking around behind him. Interesting is good, but it can also be concerning when he has insufficient data to predict what, in this case, it means. He can’t see what James is up to, but he can feel it when his feet are laid bare. His brow furrows.

*

When Jim takes Mycroft's socks off, Sebastian smirks, but besides that, does nothing. His grip remains tight enough to press against Mycroft's trachea, just enough to make it hard for him to speak. The way he croaks is good enough, satisfying for the sniper at a personal level. No words this time, he just tries to catch Jim's eye, always keen to be on the same wavelength.

*

Sweet Sebastian. Always there to do exactly what he needs. Even when disobeying direct orders. Jim ponders whether to punish or reward him; decides that probably both is best. But Holmes first. “Mr Moran, could you sit down on the floor please, placing one leg over Mr Holmes' calves and one under his ankles? Mycroft, please press your toes into the ground. Excellent.”

Jim picks up the cord, raises it, lashes down on Mycroft’s feet.

*

 _Oh, bloody hell._ With Moran pinning him down it’s easiest to drop his hands to the floor, bracing even with the cuffs on. It’s definitely not his favourite position, being forced to all fours - there’s something vulnerable about it that doesn’t sit well with him. The blows against his feet by far exceed the ones to his back in terms of pain, and there’s the added knowledge that he’ll have to walk out of here in his good business shoes, pretending he can’t feel anything at all. _Damn._ He grunts, clenching his teeth as best he can to keep any reactions in, but a growled “fuck” still slips out when the cord catches him squarely in the arch.

*

"Hey, he's swearing. Are we making a bad boy out of him, Jim?" Sebastian comments, arching an eyebrow and focusing on the skin he is keeping prisoner between his legs. Smooth, pale, peppered with freckles. The fact that it is fair doesn't make it any more similar to his lover... It is completely different, yet somehow intriguing. The sniper runs one nail over it, enjoying the fine red line following, while Jim keeps up his art. It isn't for the faint of heart, not at all, as he knows. He isn't sure - actually, he'd be pretty disappointed - if Mycroft will have the same aftercare that Jim usually reserves for him. Poor man, he wanted interesting. He will get all the interesting he needs...

*

Five strokes. That will do. He doesn't want to break Mycroft Holmes - he will have to get them out of here. And he is being _so good_ \- on the floor on all fours, taking the torture... remarkably well, actually. He really is an Ice Man. Jim remembers Sebastian's first time - even SAS-trained pain junkie Moran hadn't been anywhere near as stoic. The soles of the feet are some of the most sensitive areas of the human body. And as such... he has one more treat for Holmes. He squats down behind Mycroft's wealed feet, smiles at Sebastian, and drives the needle into the plantar nerve of the right foot.


	5. The Ice Man

The cords stop moving, and Mycroft’s eyes narrow as Jim draws closer. He can’t see, but he knows enough to be concerned. _Going to carve your initials there as well?_

It takes a second for the reality to register. The first feeling Mycroft gets is electric - like being tased, and that’s enough to yield a strangled sort of cry from his otherwise obstinate lips. The second is the pain, rippling and radiating all the way up. He howls. Only his intimate familiarity with the needle ensures he allots his self-control to not attempting to kick Jim in the face, because the damage he could do to his own nerves if he succeeds is too much of a risk. His hands balled into fists, he lowers his head onto his forearms, trying desperately to breathe through it.

*

Mycroft positively _howls_ and damn it if that isn't music to Sebastian's ears. He keeps him steady, not moving away, at some point almost petting his skin. He is pretty sure Mycroft doesn’t even notice. 

"Is Jim good enough? I've got to say I'm surprised. The first time he did that to me I was crying, I'm not even ashamed to admit it. You are taking it remarkably well," he has to say. Jim's smile is bright and crooked, letting him see the mischief underneath; still, Sebastian knows better than to move and do something reckless. After all, if it were up to him, Mycroft would be at least severely mutilated. This is better, of course: a longer game with such a delectable partner. It almost makes him look forward to what could come next.

*

" _Very good_ , Mr Holmes! I'm impressed. You truly are an Ice Man." Jim takes the needle out, slowly, careful not to tear the nerve.

"So sad though. When do you ever have _fun_? Do you even know the meaning of the word? Here you are, breaking all the rules of the Kingdom, just to entertain yourself with us, and you're still not really _enjoying_ it, are you? What is the _purpose_ of your life, Mycroft? You work day and night, go home, have a few hours' sleep if you're lucky, go on your treadmill, and when you're feeling particularly indulgent have one glass of whiskey while reading the newspaper. Occasionally you get a rent boy to spill your seed with, but it's more maintenance than fulfilment, isn't it? Is that really all your life is? Protecting your family and a country, neither of who care about you? Never letting your hair down?" Jim shakes his head, tutting. "I'm so disappointed in you, Mycroft. You have such potential, I see it... You could have it all. And instead you waste it on people who don't appreciate you. Such a shame..." Jim drives the needle into the mid-point between the ankle bone and the heel on the inside of Mycroft's left foot. "That's it, Mycroft... Just equal vengeance, nothing to get mad about."

*

Moriarty’s accuracy on his personal life is _alarming_. Mycroft is going to have to overhaul his personal staff again - there’s no way he should be able to deduce that much just from the interviews they’ve had together - Mycroft takes steps against that. Must have an inside source. “Is this... a bloody recruiting effort?” he pants. Then the needle comes down again and he screams. His face is beginning to haemorrhage - no, he’s crying. _Damn it._

*

If Mycroft really thinks Jim is not getting information on him, well, he is surely a lot more naive than he looks. He stares at the scene, which is looking delicious, actually: his lover hurting the politician so _well_ and Mycroft finally crying. It is probably good for him, a few therapists would probably swear by it, if he omitted the psychopath’s torture bit. "Do you want to be recruited? Because we could talk about it I guess. We might use you as a part-time boy. What do you think, Jim, is he good enough? Because you have to know: if we recruit you, there's no firing, not in the classical sense anyway," he says lazily, just playing around, letting Jim do his magic. This might even turn out useful.

*

Jim slowly removes the needle."Ah, finally. There we are. There's no shame in it - Moran cried when I did this to him the first time. Isn't it a relief, to let go a little?" He strokes Mycroft's head. "It's not a recruiting effort, I'm just stating the _obvious_. I don't see why you'd waste your life being so bored and boring all the time. You have amassed all this power, and what do you use it for? Nothing. Such a pity..." 

He gets up, breaks the needle, throws it through the grating on the floor. "I think this has outlived its usefulness. It's time for some fun, don't you think? Now, I promised you'd get to fuck Moran if you'd let go, and you _kind_ of did, a little, so maybe you will, _but_ , all three of us were supposed to enjoy ourselves here, and thus far it's only been you and me in charge, so, Mr Moran, what do you say? What would you like to do?"

*

 ** __** _Bloody hell._ When Moriarty breaks the needle Mycroft can’t tell if he’s grateful or nervous. It can’t be used on him, but it also means it cannot be used _against_ them. He regards Jim with red-rimmed eyes, pale skin so easily blotched, just like every other redhead. But then Jim hands the reins to Moran. Vaguely concerning - he thinks he has an idea of how Moriarty works - they are more similar than he’d like to admit - but Moran is more of a wild card. He pushes off the floor to his knees, wrists still bound, and looks at Moran apprehensively over his shoulder.

*

Sebastian just stays still, observing him for a long moment. His flushed face, eyes puffy and red, real concern showing in them. Delicious. 

He takes a step closer, looks up at Jim, a slow smile appearing on his lips. "Oh, Jim. You know I'm not the brainy one. All I can do with our puppet here is hurt him long and slow. And you even offered him my body... Not a very easy situation, is it?" One hand moves to Mycroft's head, caressing it first and then tugging it up to see his eyes and his grin. "I don't need you to be entertained. I've got plenty of stimuli, as you can see. So I'm asking you Holmes. Will you be good? Because otherwise, I really have no interest in you."

*

Jim observes the situation with an amused smile on his face, but keeping a wary eye on the situation. His Tiger is fierce when off the leash; and normally when he gives him free rein with toys said toys don't need to be in one piece when Seb is done with them. In fact, it's easier to dispose of them if they aren't. But an unleashed Tiger is also incredibly hot, so Jim is keen to see what he has in mind for Mycroft... and him.

*

Mycroft looks into Moran’s eyes, trying, subtly, to deduce. What would Moran want, what would keep him appeased and Mycroft in one piece? Pain, certainly - he seems comfortable both dealing it out and receiving. Same for sex, really. Both, then? 

Mycroft’s instincts are off - he’s not quite as confident as he was, but he didn’t get so far up in his world of politics and diplomacy without learning how to put on a convincing front. He runs his tongue over his teeth, eyes challenging despite their reddened look. “Rather going to depend on what you mean by ‘good’, Mr Moran.”

*

"From a man like you I’d expect a better knowledge of vocabulary, my dear. I think you know perfectly well what I mean by _good..._ " He stops, looks at Mycroft, feels the sudden urge to punch that very straight nose, but then again, Jim loves blood but dislikes when someone leaves permanent damage... He looks up, meeting black eyes just for a second, and bites his lip. 

If he can't have pain, he'll have sex: it takes only a few seconds and a few steps to be right in front of the tied man, pressing his cock into his mouth and letting him suck it, without choking on it, for just a few seconds, before taking it away. "Not good enough, see."

*

Sebastian is looking like he’s going to punch Mycroft and that won’t do - no visible marks or they might not get out of here. But he looks up at him and Jim looks back, and Sebastian changes tactics. Not for the first time he contemplates just how attuned they are, no words or gestures necessary. Seb sticks his cock in Mycroft’s mouth and for a moment Jim expects that to be it - he’s never known Sebastian Moran to take his cock out before it’s had its fun - but apparently Holmes is lacking - or Seb is playing with him. Oh, this could be interesting. Jim smiles.

*

 ** __** _I don’t understand._ Mycroft is getting more thrown off now - he should be able to read Moran easily, but it’s not coming - is that because he’s still looking at Jim for orders? He narrows his eyes. _Be good._ What the hell did that mean? Show a little interest? Well, that he can manage. He leans forward, looking up, and licks a stripe up the underside of Moran’s cock, pausing at the top to suck against the head.

*

The pleasure distracts Sebastian: it's good - he can admit it in the privacy of his mind - and he likes to see Holmes crawling on his knees to get a taste of his cock. He lets it happen for a bit; a few licks and a little sucking, just because it's a nice feeling; before stepping to the side, offering one hand to Jim, as if asking him to waltz together. 

“I'm sure he can manage us both. Sharing is caring, after all."

*

Oh? Oh poor Holmes. Being made to suck off _two_ criminals cuffed on his knees must not have been how he imagined this day. But sure, a bit of cockrubbing with Sebastian will be welcome, because fuck, it's been too long. He moves into Sebastian's arms, lines his cock up to touch his. Doesn't even glance at Holmes, just looks up at his sniper and kisses him deeply. 

_Dammit. I've missed you. More than I'd expected._

*

 ** __** _Oh, for fuck’s sake._ Mycroft can’t win in this scenario; trying to service two people at once almost always ends with someone feeling neglected... It only belatedly occurs to him that he may be the someone in question. He does feel slightly irked that the pair of them are just snogging again and paying him no mind at all. Strange. That should be a benefit - it means neither of them are contemplating doing anything horrendous to him at the moment. But instead it’s annoying. 

Fine. He’ll just have to perform well enough to earn some bloody respect. He extends his tongue and starts in.

*

Looks like Holmes knows how to take a challenge: Sebastian can feel his lips rubbing them both, he would be able to see Mycroft's dedication to Jim's cock, if he just cared enough to look _down_. For the moment, though, he has Jim in his arms, graceful and smirking, and Sebastian can’t take his eyes, his mind off of him. When Jim claims his mouth for a kiss, Sebastian happily lets himself be drowned in it, needing it, _loving it_. Holmes can wait, or better, be kind and useful for once. It does appear that the politician is smart enough to make himself be noticed, and the sniper rewards him with a gentle caress through his hair.

*

Jim feels tired, all of a sudden. He hasn't slept in days - they've been keeping him awake - and he realizes how much he longs for a warm bath, a bed, _home_. But being in Sebastian's arms is enough, for now. Those strong arms, that can be so surprisingly gentle, _are_ home. He rests his head on Seb's shoulder, looking down at Holmes doing... a pretty good job, actually, and Seb stroking his hair.

*

How pathetic, that Mycroft has been reduced to demanding attention from his own captives by sucking cock. Worse, that he’s actually enjoying Moran’s _petting._ If he is being honest with himself, however, Moran is roughly his type - fit and attractive, certainly, but it’s more the feeling of devoted competence and what was probably once authority, before Jim crushed it. Yes, he really does need to look at getting a military man of his own. Mycroft begins alternating between them so he can take each cock more deeply, lapping and sucking back and forth with each bob.

*

Something in Jim has been broken, or at least broken a little more: it's not necessarily a bad thing, to Sebastian. Sometimes it's nice to be able to have a look inside the incredible mystery that Jim is. He holds him a little tighter, kisses him just a little bit tenderly, lets him lean on him a little more. In the meantime, the hand stroking Mycroft's head keeps moving, maybe just slightly rougher, his own breathing getting a bit uneven. The politician is good, and he is actually _making an effort_. There is something ironic and absolutely exhilarating in Holmes knelt and handcuffed, pleasuring them so eagerly. It is nice, indeed...

*

It’s good, leaning into Sebastian, and Holmes is doing a decent enough job, he supposes, and for a while Jim is happy to just kiss and be kissed and sucked. But then Seb is getting a bit too enthusiastic. It makes sense - he’s usually quite keen on getting his orgasm where he can, but Jim doesn’t want him to finish first. He deliberates, then decides that it might be best to keep Holmes reasonably sweet. And the fucker has been drooling over Sebastian since he’s seen him, so... “That’ll do, Mycroft,” he says. “I do seem to remember I promised you’d get to fuck Moran and, be honest, that’s what you’ve been dying to do since you first lay eyes on him, isn’t it? He is fucking hot, I’ll give you that.”

*

Mycroft’s eyes flick up, actually startled wide. Because _yes_ , he had some designs on Moran and the fucking thereof, but he didn’t think, once they’d started in on him, that they’d let him. He pulls back slowly, sinking back onto his heels, still a bit wary of possible traps - this is Moriarty offering, after all; the man could make anything feel suspicious, and Mycroft doesn’t trust him. Still... “He is... fucking hot, yes.” He glances over to Moran to see if this is something he agrees with - is it a simple order from his master to be obeyed, or might he refuse?

*

Sebastian's breath stops in its tracks. He isn't opposed to being fucked, hell no. He is just surprised, a little, that Jim decides to offer him as a reward now, after having given him all the... power, so to speak. It isn't that Mycroft Holmes is objectively bad looking or unattractive: there surely is something appealing in the man, especially when he is broken and whimpering like he is now... Sebastian is a little worried about him taking the lead but maybe that could also be interesting. He'll ask Jim why, but later. Right now, he looks at him, purposefully asking his partner and not the man who'd be, probably, the one inside him. "... how do you want me?" If Mycroft wants him, or his respect, he'll have to work for it.

*

"All the time in all different ways, darling," Jim smiles. "As does Mycroft here, don't you, Mycroft? Look at that gorgeous arse - I can tell you, it's heaven. Or would you prefer to be fucked by him? He’s the best. As much stamina as you want. But, there are two conditions, Mycroft," Jim says, as he helps Holmes up. "One - you don't interfere in my little game with your brother. It's just a bit of fun, an exercise for our minds. _Our_ minds, it's no fun if you join in - two against one is hardly fair, as you've seen today, right?" He smiles as he undoes the handcuffs. 

"Two - you beg for it."

*

Mycroft flexes his wrists as Moriarty undoes the handcuffs, still listening with a wary ear. The first condition is easy - Sherlock is a big boy, he can manage himself. But the second... His mouth opens. Closes. He runs his tongue over his teeth. Sebastian does have a fine arse. Very - grabbable. Muscled, firm... he reaches out, but stops himself short of touching. _Shit._ He _wants_ , but he does not _beg._ This is ridiculous. He has never even deigned to beg for his own life, when circumstances warranted it. Still... 

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. His tongue wets his lips. “Please?” he asks experimentally. It doesn’t sound genuine - it sounds rather like he has to tear the ability to even make the correct sound from the bottom of his throat. The following “May I?” even sounds sarcastic.

*

"What the hell, Holmes. Hasn’t anyone taught you how to beg?" Sebastian listens to Jim's words with slight irritation: he is completely ok with giving him away for _playing with Sherlock Holmes_. Like Sherlock Holmes matters. Like Sebastian is a tool, and not his best man. Fucking hell, that alone is enough to piss him off and now this man, this smart man who has it all right there in his hands can't even beg _properly_? It's way too easy to take it out on him. Sebastian growls and then laughs right in Holmes’ face, arching an eyebrow. "That won't do. I'm not sure if that's enough for Jim but trust me, it really does nothing for me. And while you can still put your cock in my body, theoretically, even without my enjoyment, let me tell you it's a completely different experience."

*

“Awww, look what you’ve done Holmes, you’ve turned off Moran. That’s quite hard to do, I’m impressed.” Jim sees the displeased expression in Sebastian’s eyes - oh so sending you to be shot at is alright but offering you up for sex goes too far? 

Oh wait - _Sherlock_. My Tiger is _jealous_. How adorable. 

“Well, Mr Moran, it seems it will be just you and me fucking then; and poor Mycroft watching and pulling his prick like he does when watching his dirty films - sadly longing for something he’ll never have.” Jim shakes his head, a sad expression on his face.

*

 ** __** _Goddammit._ Their mocking is making this worse - they can’t really expect _him_ to - 

Only apparently they do, actually, expect Mycroft to beg properly. He attempts to swallow his pride - and doesn’t he have an awful lot of that to swallow - and tries again. 

“Please - Please may I fuck Sebastian- Mr Moran - Please-“ his face is turning red just from the frustration of degrading himself like this, but the more he speaks, the easier it seems to spill out of him, even if his face looks close to breaking in humiliation. “Fuck.” He sinks to his knees, almost against his own will, head bowing. “Please.”

*

Much, much better. Sebastian looks down at Mycroft, kneeling again without anyone asking for it, skin blotched and flushed by frustration and humiliation and yes, that does something for him. Jim wants a Holmes to play with? Very well, then; he'll have his own toy.

"I'm not sure I heard properly," the sniper starts, moving closer, stepping back right in front of Mycroft. "Which is a pity because I am starting to like this little game, and if I like it enough you might get to touch my body. And treat it right of course, don't you even think you can just disregard me once you put those slender hands on me."

*

Jim's pleased with the outcome - he'd not been sure if Holmes would be able to beg. He'd be humiliated either way, so he hadn't been too fussed, but it's interesting to see the arrogant bastard on his knees. 

Huh. He's really gagging for it, then. He feels no jealousy at Holmes fucking Sebastian - right here he's a toy, not a person. Seb seems to be getting in the mood for it, which is good - he'd do as he was told, of course, but it'd be not very fair to have him be fucked by someone he's not keen on as a reward for getting Jim out. He hangs back, casually stroking Seb's shoulder, as Moran lays down the law to Holmes.

*

A low, unexpected pulse through his groin tells Mycroft he wouldn’t exactly mind Sebastian fucking him either, not as long as he used that dominant, authoritative voice he’s been hiding under deference for Jim - but, no, no, the Iceman is not here to be subservient. He’s just playing the part long enough to get his cock buried in Moran’s arse, certainly not anything else. 

He licks his lips, that humiliated flush returning as he forces himself to do this. Again. “Please Sebastian - I want- may I fuck you, please?” He tilts forward, slowly, close enough that the heat of his breath can probably be felt near Moran’s cock. “I’ll- treat you well, I promise - just, please-“

*

Warm breath is hitting Sebastian's hard-on and it is pleasant, so to speak, but yet not enough. He moves around, out of Mycroft's sight, stopping just behind him and staring for a second at all those pretty freckles. Maybe letting him fuck his body could be nice, in some ways…

"Just please is not enough Holmes... How would you treat me? Why do you want me so much, uh? So you can say you put your dick in Moriarty's man? That wouldn't be a decent motivation, would it?"

*

Jim is enjoying the show. It’s always nice to see his Tiger unleashed, and toying with his prey. “Yes, Seb, good question - tell us, Holmes, how you have a thing for hot soldier types, how you long to have them finally overpower you, so you can finally _stop_ being in charge all the time? Oh sorry, Sebastian, spoi-lers!”

*

Mycroft doesn’t like that Moran has slipped out of his view. He’s being toyed with, he can tell. But Jim fucking Moriarty - making supposedly insightful statements about his life - not true, of course, he _fucks_ hot soldier types, he doesn’t - bend over for them, that’s absurd - 

He levels a defensive glare at Moriarty. “I don’t- I will grant you that I find military men attractive-“ he turns his head slightly, giving Moran a look over his shoulder, “that’s _why_ , Sebastian - I would treat you well, fuck you well, because I find you attractive.” His eyes shift back to Jim, skin still red with embarrassment that this is even being discussed. “But I don’t let them _take_ me, I don’t- I am always in control. That isn’t an option.” A very quiet, small part of him whispers _but what if._ He tries very, very hard to crush it.

*

Sebastian arches an eyebrow, looking directly at Jim, clearly not buying any of it. instead of answering, he kneels, close to Mycroft, pulling him against his body in a quick move, hard cock against Mycroft's naked ass, his teeth dangerously close to Mycroft's pulse. 

"What if I _fucked_ you instead, Holmes? Would you be good for me, would you get hard for me? I would fuck you so well, Holmes. You'd forget where we are and what you're thinking now. Let me fuck that bullshit out of you. Would you like that?"

*

This is getting very interesting. Jim knows Mycroft has a longing to submit - of course he does, even Jim does sometimes, and he's the biggest control freak he knows - and there's no one more delectable to yield to than Sebastian. Still, when Jim submits to Sebastian, which is rare indeed, it's because he knows he can trust him completely - will Mycroft be able to let lust triumph over his sense of control even with a dangerous man like Moran? Knowing that Jim is right there and Sebastian would do whatever Jim asked of him? 

So - is Mycroft's desire for submission to Sebastian, which he won't even acknowledge to himself, greater than his control freakishness and his mistrust of Jim? Oh, what a _delicious_ little game. Jim leaves them at it - his comments only get Holmes' hackles up, whereas Sebastian seems to be making some distinct progress. Oh Sebastian, you are worth your weight in motherfucking diamonds.

*

Mycroft can’t help it. That hard cock presses against him, Moran is growling in his ear - He whimpers. _Oh fuck- fuck-_ He can’t bring himself to look at Moriarty - he’s blushing, he must be, Jim will just mock him - 

_Breathe, you have to breathe - come on -_

He inhales with a subtle shudder. His cock is already answering one of Sebastian’s questions for him, twitching with interest every time Mycroft even lets himself consider- _Fuck._ He doesn’t trust himself to speak, but slowly - slowly - he finds that he’s nodding. _Oh, shit._

*

The grin on Sebastian's mouth is sly and ferocious at the same time as he runs his nails down the pale extent of Mycroft's back. Red, soft lines. Good. 

"Nice, Holmes. That's nice, your cock is so hard thinking about me, uh? Let me feel that." It doesn't take much for him to extend an arm and stroke it twice, just fast enough, hard enough. It really seems like this man wants nothing more than a little fun with him and oh, he's going to give it to him. "Bend over, it will be easier like that. How hard to you want me, Holmes? How painful can you take, along with pleasure? If you beg real, real good there's going to be pleasure, _Mycroft_. I can kill you, but I can also make you feel so good you'll beg for me to fuck you over and over again." And probably, _possibly_ , be denied of that.

*

Jim is utterly delighted at the way things are working out - Sebastian is _good_ at this. Well, he learned from the best. He'll have to reward him when they get out of here - anything you want, Tiger. Though - it's hard to think about what Sebastian would want that he hasn't got yet; the man is just so fucking _great_ at everything he does, as well as so modest in his wants; Jim has been trying to show his appreciation so much more than Sebastian has actually expressed desires. He's bloody hard to spoil. As far as Jim can tell the only thing he really wants and doesn't have is a ring on his finger - and that's not going to happen. 

Hold on though- ... _Sherlock_. 

A grin spreads over Jim's face. The elder Holmes has shown himself to be so much smarter than his little brother, and now is promising to be so much more fun to play with... 

_Get me Mycroft, Sebastian, and I'll give you Sherlock._ He nods at his sniper encouragingly.

*

Two casual pumps of his cock and Mycroft crashes straight into full hardness, like he can’t control himself at all. _What is happening to me?_ He doesn’t know. Moran’s nails on his back felt painful, yes, but also... relaxing? It’s not the correct response, they’re torturing him. Aren’t they? 

_You did tell them to be interesting,_ a low voice says in his head. Moran tells him to bend over and he can feel his hands reaching for the floor, pausing in the air as his brain catches up. _Beg._ That word again. Only he doesn’t beg. Except that he did. Mycroft doesn’t _want_ things, he takes them. Things he can’t have he casts aside - unnecessary. He’s never lusted after anyone that he wasn’t already in the process of claiming. So why the hell does he want _Sebastian Moran_ , of all people, to touch him? He’s attractive, surely, but he isn’t special. Only his status as a killer makes him _special_. Makes his offer of pain and pleasure unique. _Fuck._

“Hard,” his voice croaks. Mycroft can’t remember deciding to speak. His hands hit the floor. “Please, Sebastian.”

*

"it's Colonel Moran to you. I'm not your friend." Sebastian lets the other man bend over, his voice reduced to a desperate murmur as he _gives in_ to him. Hard, he said. This could be nice... He looks up once again at Jim, not exactly to ask him anything or to check on him, just to have the sense of the general situation: his partner looks interested, quiet, and definitely approving of his method. Since Holmes liked it so much, the sniper runs his fingers over his back again, this time not stopping, and inserting one inside him, all the way, fighting the ring of muscles: it is just a finger, but it is a signal. A promise maybe, maybe an offer. 

"Beg," he says again. It is just too much fun.

*

What a difference with the Mycroft Holmes of earlier. This one, bending over, begging to be taken _hard_ by Sebastian, is so much more delightful than the Ice Man. Seb looks at him in a quick check and he shows his approval on his face. _Go on Sebastian, melt him. If anyone can do it, it’s you. I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but you eat the impossible for breakfast._ Jim holds very still, doesn’t want to risk breaking the spell Seb has cast over Holmes - reel him in, Seb...

*

Pain. Moran’s nails run over him and he _likes it_ , and then- _oh god_ Mycroft has never before heard the keening moan that erupts from his core. His eyes water. It _hurts_ , the way Moran just drives into him, but it doesn’t take long to adjust - to feel like he wants to fuck back onto Moran’s hand. He can’t, though. There are rules to this game, he understands that, and his body seems inclined to obey even if his mind remains uncertain. _Beg,_ again. Isn’t being on his knees enough? He said please, didn’t he? Moran wants to humiliate him, obviously - and god, if Mycroft didn’t _want_ him so badly, hadn’t already seen that lovely cock, he’d never even consider... “Please- please fuck me-“ What did he say - Colonel? “Sir?” The word is so unfamiliar that his tongue sticks on it. “Sir, please-“

*

Mycroft seems wonderfully pliant, and Sebastian decides to reward him by pushing his finger in more firmly, quickly working a second one inside. His other hand strokes his side once - a reward is important, when someone does their best like this - and he chuckles just softly, lowly, to himself. "Please what, Holmes? What are you craving now?" he insists, his fingertips pushing even deeper, looking for his prostate. "If you want me to fuck you _hard_ , I'll stop with the niceties. Is that what you want?" Truth be told, Sebastian is starting to feel a little interest himself, his cock hard and his need to drive into that body hard and fast rising steadily.

*

This is getting hot. Jim is finding himself carnally as well as professionally interested in the proceedings. He moves to the side, silently, so he can keep a good eye on everything, but he isn't in Holmes' direct line of sight - he doubts he is conducive to Holmes' pleasure, and it's important that the British government has a good time. Also, this gives him a better view of Seb and it's bloody _hot_ to see Seb toy with another man like this. He doesn't feel jealous - he is very aware of the devotion Sebastian feels towards him - and the thought of Seb fucking Mycroft Holmes, the most powerful man in Britain, humiliating him, making him beg - is very, very arousing indeed.

*

The stretch - the burn - Moran’s questing fingers brush over his prostate and earn a shuddering, needy whimper in reply. Mycroft’s fingers curl, scraping the floor. _Oh god yes._ “Hard, yes- _fuck_ \- please, sir- Colonel- there’s lube- on the table- just-“ His breath catches as Moran skims his prostate again. “Don’t be gentle,” he pants, more in the Ice Man’s tone, closer to an order. Part of him is asserting itself, reminding him that he chose this, he can still own it, even on his knees and pleading. 

“Fuck me hard and don’t be gentle. Please. Sir.”

*

Sebastian stops for a second, considering his options. The lube is on the table, and someone has to retrieve it... He could ask Jim, but that might ruin the spell, breaking it the moment Mycroft _remembers_ there's a third man in the room, a pretty dangerous one at that. He could ask Mycroft himself to go and bring it to him, maybe crawling like the good pet he is, but then again, that might distract him and give him time to move away from the carnal feeling that is clearly overwhelming him. So, sighing, he leans over and stretches, using his free arm to move and grab the lube from the table. "I'm using lube, pet, because I want this to be good for me too. And I will be as hard or gentle as I want to, Holmes. But I promise you I will consider your suggestions, if you are good enough." 

It's not too hard to keep control, even now that Sebastian's cock is fully hard, almost leaking: the sight in front of him is absolutely delicious, but the sniper has his goal pretty clear in his mind. Fingers abandon Mycroft's body, yet Sebastian's pretty sure the other man will stay still as he's ordered. It doesn't take long to put some lube on his palm and coat his cock properly, moving closer and pushing inside, slowly enough not to cause any permanent damage, but without stopping or giving him any time to adjust, not until Sebastian's cock is inside him fully.

*

Jim is starting to breathe quite fast now. His hand wants to move to his own cock - but no, he'll not be the one wanking while the others fuck, it's beneath him. Also, his first orgasm in a while deserves something better than a wank - he wonders if... It is a risk... But... maybe in a bit. For now, he's enjoying the sight of his magnificent sniper subduing Mycroft fucking Holmes. The man who he never thought he could take on - just manipulate, to get at his brother. The man who can make wars break out by sending a text. The man who has the Queen in his pocket. This man represents the entire fucking nation and he's being buggered by Sebastian Moran, who is _his_. And he's begging to be fucked hard. Oh, the state of the nation in a perfect metaphor.

*

“Oh- god-“ Mycroft almost sobs with agonized relief when Moran thrusts into him. Certainly, it burns, it hurts, but he _likes it._ Is this what his partners have felt with him? Sebastian’s cock is exquisite, of course. Mycroft feels full in the best way, breathing as his muscles finish adjusting. His own cock aches, untouched, but he’s content with that for now. He rolls his shoulders, adjusting to where he can better take the sort of force he’s expecting. 

Steely blue eyes flick back over his shoulder and he licks his bottom lip. “Well, Colonel? Going to move, or must I-“ he slides his own hips back and forth in a shallow path over the base of Moran’s cock - “show you the pace?” He’s baiting Moran a bit, of course - hopefully ensuring that the pace is ruthless. Mycroft has never been above dirty tactics to get what he desires.

*

Steely blue eyes look right back and Sebastian does his best to restrains himself. A rough, strong hand quickly wraps around Mycroft's neck, hard, pulling him up on his knees against Sebastian's chest. He squeezes, hard enough to stop any intention of talking, almost stopping even the possibility of breathing. 

"Talk to me like that once more and you're going to be a pitiful puddle of blood in the middle of the room, and trust me, you won't see my cock anywhere near you ever again. Understood?" Those words are spoken slowly, as to someone _pretty dumb_ , and coldly enough to show Mycroft he isn't the only ice man in the room.

*

Careful, Sebastian. Don’t provoke him beyond his capability to submit - he’s got strong survival skills; are they instinctual? Will choking him set them off? 

This is fucking hot though. I love you like that - ruthless, cruel, authoritarian. My Colonel. Lucky Mycroft - few people get to see this and live. _No one_ gets fucked by Moran and lives. You should feel extraordinarily privileged. Jim snaps his fingers very softly - not loud enough to notice, except for someone who is perfectly conditioned to pay attention to that sound. Seb looks up at him, and he makes a ‘tone it down a bit, be careful’ gesture.

*

Mycroft’s hands instinctively lift and wrap around Moran’s arm, not that there’s much he could do to get Moran off him if he had to... _wait._ Moran isn’t trying to kill him. He can still breathe. Mostly. Even red-faced from losing his air, Mycroft raises a brow, not that Sebastian can necessarily see it. _No, you won’t do it, Moran. The second you actually hurt me this whole game is off, and you’ll be lucky if they only kill you._ That said... well - thought... he is actually enjoying the sensation of Moran utilizing more of his strength against him, choking him firmly but not enough to disable - it’s very tactical, really. Impressive. And he hasn’t pulled out before yanking Mycroft back - the angle is delightful, pressing hard into him in just the right way. He unlocks his counter grip on Moran’s arm and strokes a line across the back of his hand - the one holding his throat - in tacit acknowledgement. 

_Yes, we all know you’re very intimidating. Don’t get your pride in knots about it. Carry on._

*

Mycroft doesn't answer, and that is pissing Sebastian off, but he heard Jim. He always hears him, after all... That sound is all he needs to be kept in place, behaving a little more, because maybe he was getting a little ahead of himself. He can't _dispose_ of Holmes, at least not yet, so he better just enjoy the ride... Besides, it seems that the politician understood at least partially who he was messing with. 

Sebastian's real aim isn't to intimidate the other man (would he even need to?) but to reaffirm the rules of the game. This new position has some unexpected advantages, actually... The way his cock pushes deeper, almost all the way inside the other man. He thrusts inside him from there, his hand still squeezing Mycroft's throat skilfully, his hips snapping hard and deep, slowly. One thrust, deep inside, then another, then another, deep and slow. If the noises the other man is making are any indication, this is quite appreciated.

*

It looks like he underestimated Mycroft. He seems to be appreciating this - stroking Seb's hand, making delicious noises of pleasure - it appears the elder Holmes _really_ needed to be fucked even more than his little brother does. And this puts him at the perfect height... 

Let's risk it. 

Jim moves into Mycroft's line of sight, checks his face. It doesn't show anything - he'll have to see. He strokes his face, puts a finger in his mouth.


	6. Power Is Sexy

Mycroft would not have expected that this scenario was going to end up with him learning that he has an appreciation for being choked, but here we are. It helps that Moran isn’t holding back on him - each snapping, forceful thrust forces a moan out as his arse is deliciously filled. Then Jim is in front of him, and his brow furrows slightly - even with the heady feeling of low oxygen and a resoundingly good fuck his mind registers _danger_ when it comes to Moriarty. Then he feels a finger enter his mouth... ah. Well. Why not? It’s not as if he’ll be in this situation ever again. May as well experience the lot of it. Mycroft looks up with slightly wary eyes and opens his mouth wider.

*

 ** __** _You utterly insane, gorgeous bastard_. Sebastian can't help but smirk up when Jim approaches them. His eyes are blue and bright, his cheeks flushed, and a little sweat is starting to dampen his hair. He keeps moving inside Mycroft - deep and slow, deep and slow - and for a moment he wonders in his mind if, thrusting deep enough, it could be like fucking Jim, both of them at once, once his lover finally decides to put his cock into that witty posh mouth. 

This is getting good, much much better than he thought... But with Jim, everything is possible. Sebastian keeps Mycroft's sides firmly in his hands, guiding each and every move inside him, silently reminding him he is still in control and he definitely didn't forget _who_ he is fucking, but he lets his eyes dance up to Jim, amused and intrigued.

*

"Mmmm, Seb, look at you all flustered. I'd rather stick my cock in you, but we are here to please Mr Holmes, aren't we? And to be fair, he has a certain appeal, if only because he's one of the most powerful men in Britain. You can say what you like, but power is sexy." Jim moves another finger into Mycroft's mouth, strokes his lips. 

"And it looks like Mr Holmes is aware of that as well, obediently opening his mouth when confronted with the man with the real power here. Because it's not about position, Mr Holmes. It's not about family, or money. It's not about strength or force. Look at me - look at me! I'm the smallest guy in the room. I have been tortured for weeks, I'm weak as a kitten. I have no weapons, no bargaining power. But I'm in charge. Because what it's about, Mycroft, is will. Good old Aleister was right - do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law. Love is the law, love under will." He moves forward, takes his cock, and pushes it in Mycroft's mouth, at the same time as Sebastian thrusts deeply. He smiles at his sniper, his eyes gleaming.

*

 ** __** _I would argue that it’s entirely about position, James - specifically the one I am currently in - but it’s difficult to discuss semantics when one cannot actually speak._ Mycroft is more or less bouncing on Moran’s cock, skin slapping together with the distinct sort of noise only a hard fucking can produce. All credit to Moran - it’s not an easy position to gain that kind of force in. He holds Moriarty’s gaze evenly - well, as evenly as he can with a prick pounding away at him - resisting the urge to bite down simply because he can. When Jim’s cock is shoved in, replacing those delicate fingers, Mycroft makes a strangled noise - it’s not easy to be fucked on two sides while someone’s hand is still about your throat. The lack of air makes it a brutal challenge - Mycroft can feel his eyes watering again - but also one where he can be out of himself, just feeling, just focusing on getting those little gasps of air where he can. He has to hang on somewhere - Jim’s hips are as good a place as any, and he hooks his fingers over the slim hipbones so Sebastian’s thrusts don’t force him to take Jim’s cock so deeply down his throat that he chokes.

*

Mycroft is bloody hot, managing to bounce on his cock with that punishing rhythm, but when Jim makes his speech... Oh wow. 

Sebastian, too, looks up at him, at the power he is radiating, even in such difficult circumstances. It turns him on even more, and his own movements get more energetic, almost unconsciously. The hand across Mycroft's throat doesn't loosen up - he does consider it for a moment, for Jim's benefit of course. But then, what's life without a little challenge? Holmes is doing beautifully just like that... Sebastian knows he always works well with Jim, and it is somehow elating to see this is no exception: Mycroft is groaning, grasping Jim's hips almost desperately, trying his best not to choke and, still, to give a good performance. Good Holmes, eager Holmes. Such a nice toy to play with.

*

Jim sees the urge to bite pass fleetingly across Mycroft’s face. He wouldn’t though - he’s smart enough. Sebastian _would_ kill him. He’s not great at this, but then he’s in a difficult position, and there’s not a lot he can do in it except just letting himself be fucked from two sides. Oh but look at that - is that water in your eyes, Mycroft? And that _look_ \- that’s the look of a man who’s releasing. Letting go. Oh good Mycroft. Oh I do hope we will get to play again; this is delicious. Jim lets Mycroft set the rhythm, based on Sebastian’s thrusts. The man in the middle appears to be surrendering, letting himself be taken. It’s bloody hot, to be honest. Jim smiles at Sebastian, sees his grin in return.

*

Mycroft swallows around Jim’s cock on the next deep bounce, brushing the head against the back of his constricted throat. That’s the part he still has the mental acumen to control, to focus on breathing and not breathing, letting himself rock up from each slam from Sebastian to see how well he can manage to do this. It feels like a challenge he wants to succeed at - he’s not quite willing to think about the fact that what his mind calls a challenge is also, functionally, an effort to be a good little cocksucker to Jim fucking Moriarty. As for his arse, he’s ceded control entirely to Sebastian’s cock and the broad hands on his hip and throat guiding the rhythm. It still feels a bit dissonant to him that he can relax while being roughly used, but... he can. He might have a deal to think about, after this. Significantly after, in his own house. With whiskey. For now, he chances a glance up, eyes streaming, in the vague, stupid hope that he’ll be able to tell if he’s doing _well._

*

Sebastian closes his eyes for a second, enjoying the moment, letting Jim's grin be carved into his memory. Glorious, indeed, like he just said. Somehow it is hard to keep up the rhythm without losing himself in it, but he likes a good challenge and doesn't want to let anyone down: not Jim, of course, but somehow not Holmes either. He seems to be in real need of this good hard fuck. 

His hips keep moving and, even though he can't see Mycroft's face, he can get an idea from Jim's dark eyes, and from how his body is tense, trembling in his hands, pliant and keen at the same time. Such an ambivalent situation, but one Sebastian knows very well, and he actually finds nothing wrong, nothing weird with it.

*

Jim looks down and - oh god. That look in Mycroft's eyes. He knows that look, so well. It's the look of a man who is desperate to please. Yearning to be told that he's a good boy. _Fuck_ , that's hot. And perfect. He looks up at Seb. This is a really hard position on Mycroft. He's obviously relishing it, but he will be able to go to a deeper level of surrender if he can let go of the need to keep concentrating on keeping his posture. He looks around the room - the table is too wide, but one of the chairs might be just the right size. He puts his hand on Mycroft's chin and stops his motions. He sees the forlorn look in Mycroft's eyes, this fear of having disappointed - smiles indulgently to reassure him. He takes his cock out, steps aside, grabs a chair, places it in front of Mycroft, nodding to Sebastian to let him get down over it. As Sebastian releases his grip and pushes Mycroft down over the chair, Jim bunches some clothes into a cushion for his knees, and kneels down, perfectly positioned for Mycroft to take him in his mouth again. 

"I'm doing you a favour Mycroft. No more need to hold yourself up - just relax completely, let yourself be fucked in your arse and in your mouth, just surrender to us, let yourself go... It will be the best fuck of your life, I promise you." 

He strokes his finger over Mycroft's lip, pushes his lower teeth down, presses his cock back in.

*

Mycroft feels a brief sense of panic - _panic_ , ridiculous - when Jim withdraws, instinctually worried that he has in some way _failed_. _What is happening to me_ , he wonders, not for the first time that day. He folds over the chair easily - these chairs are not built for comfort but it will serve, and he no longer needs to balance on Jim. Instead he loosely wraps his hands around the steel legs, looking up with open eyes that he would be horrified to know look _eager_. Especially when said eagerness involves Jim Moriarty and the word “favour” used in the same sentence. His mouth opens easily to allow Jim admittance, wet and accommodating. He can feel himself relaxing back into the rhythm of it, spreading his knees wider to better serve - dear Christ, _serve_? - Sebastian’s thrusts.

*

Jim is a genius, Sebastian has always known it, though he finds himself amazed by it over and over. The chair is a wonderful trick for everyone: the slightly more comfortable position lets Mycroft give in more easily, Jim doesn't have his hands gripping his skin anymore, and Sebastian can use his whole body in more powerful, precise ways. He smirks a little wider when Mycroft's knees seem to spread almost unconsciously, and he positions himself so he can thrust deep, even deeper than earlier. Blue eyes look up again, fond and satisfied, at Jim, as he uses one of his hands to stroke Holmes’ back - he is being good, and Sebastian prides himself on being _fair_ , sometimes - and the other one to blow his partner a kiss.

*

Perfect. Holmes is sinking deeper into subspace, probably his first visit, by the look of things, so all the more reason for him to get the full experience. That keen look in his eyes, so eager to please him - well done Mycroft. You're a natural. It may not be your usual gig, but you're definitely at home in it. "There you go. It's easier when you have something to support you, isn't it? You can fully relax into the sensation, being fucked from two sides at once. One cock in your arse, one in your mouth, being filled up, either together-" he looks at Seb and they thrust into Mycroft at the same time, pulling out at the same time, and again, "- or one at a time-" he holds back as Seb thrusts in again and moves forward when the latter pulls back. "Moran and I are experienced in this, don't worry - we'll make it very, very good for you. You're doing great, Mycroft... You're such a delightful fucktoy. Absolutely delicious." He strokes Mycroft's hair as Sebastian strokes his back, pushing his cock into his throat hard. "Use your tongue, Mycroft - push up at me with your tongue... yes, that's it."

*

Mycroft obeys instinctually, even though he can’t breathe, even though every deep thrust from Sebastian makes his leaking cock ache. The praise, such as it is, makes him feel light, though he also feels as though he may be crying, and he’s no longer quite sure why. Nor can he entirely recall anything he’s meant to be doing. Nothing exists outside this room. Though there had been something bothering him. Hadn’t there? Something he was supposed to do…

Jim’s cock hits the back of his throat, hard, and Mycroft chokes a little before he relaxes enough to take it, eyes wide, looking up to Moriarty with an open, nervous expression. Was that an error? Has he made a mistake? Is he still... doing well?

*

Fucking gorgeous, all of it. Sebastian keeps fucking Mycroft steadily, but he is starting to near his own end. While that might be a disappointment to Mycroft, nothing would impede Jim to take his place. It might be nice, mightn’t it? Glancing up, taking in Jim's radiant face and Mycroft's body, finally emptied of all his arrogance, finally relaxed, void, open to them; he licks his lips and makes an effort to speak, though breath is running thin: " 'm gonna feel this beauty, Jim..' m gonna come all over him, inside him, make him even prettier. Wouldn't you like to own him as well? His arse is sweet, boss. You should really try it."

*

“His mouth is quite delectable too, my dear. He’s really learning quite fast. We should invite him over some time when we’re back home - it’d be a shame to let such talent go to waste,” Jim says, grasping Mycroft’s hair and pulling him closer as he sees Sebastian’s face change - he’s getting close. “Go on Moran, pound him hard; come for me, my sniper. You’re magnificent, you’ve earned your reward...”

*

 ** __** _Beautiful._ Sebastian called him beautiful. People - though it’s hard to imagine any people remain outside this room - don’t say that about Mycroft. Nor delectable. Talented, yes, but coming out of Jim’s mouth it still feels special. Like a reward. Moriarty pulls him closer, forcing his cock farther into Mycroft’s throat. Mycroft clenches his hands tightly around the chair legs, knuckles white, forcing himself to take it, because he can, he can be good at this. Sebastian’s increase in pace, growing almost desperate, is like a wave of pure sensation. He only distantly notes that the force driving him against the chair is going to leave bruises tomorrow. The pain has started to feel so _good_ and he knows Moran coming because of him - _in_ him - is a badge of honour.

*

Fuck, fuck, fuck... Jim told him it was ok to let go and Mycroft feels way too hot, too good to hold back much longer. Sebastian growls, fucking him in a relentless pace, finally stopping, almost freezing inside him and coming with a loud, long noise, feral and low, almost pained. If feels good, to come inside Holmes; for so many reasons it feels like a victory, that alone. For a few seconds everything is hazy, a little foggy, and he just enjoys the distinct feeling of blood running fast through his veins, before slowly focusing again. He has just a vague idea of how much, or how little, time has passed. 

Smirking slightly he moves out of Mycroft's used body - the guy is clearly dropping. At least some aftercare will have to be done later, they are assassins, not beasts - and presses a kiss, wet and intentional, on the small of his back, before leaving him there, dragging one hand on his spine as he moves towards Jim, not wanting to make Holmes feel the lack of such deep contact all at once. Fuck, he is way too soft sometimes, but then again, Jim is still playing, fucktoy has to be functioning.

*

God, that looks so good, seeing you come, my Tiger... I love watching your face and this is a very good position to watch it from. You are so _intense_ in everything you do; be it work, pain, pleasure - it's a delight to witness. I wonder if that's why I like you so much - I don't feel, so it allows me to kind of feel vicariously through you... 

Sebastian is so sweet to Mycroft - Jim doubts the latter would have been as nice if the roles had been reversed, as originally intended. But to be fair, he is doing very, very well... He lifts his head up for a Tiger kiss; deep, loving, reassuringly Sebastianic. Then he looks down at Mycroft, still obediently sucking - he's doing well, _very_ well in fact. Jim takes his cock out of his mouth, squats down to get his face level with Mycroft's, strokes the latter's face, looking him in the eyes. "You got your wish, Mycroft - you have been fucked by Sebastian Moran, and a delight it was, wasn't it? I bet you miss his miraculous cock inside you, don't you... Would you like me to take over? Would you like to continue to be fucked - by James Moriarty?"

*

The pulse of Moran’s cock, the feral noise behind him - Mycroft feels very pleased with himself, roiling in a soothing wave. When the cock is removed, however, and the one in his mouth as well, he lets out a timid, keening whine he would be embarrassed to hear if he was in his right mind, not to mention the fresh streak of tears that slide down his cheeks unbidden. Jim’s face appears in from of him and he leans into the caress of his face like a needy cat. The word Moriarty presses some button in his subconscious - something whispering _danger, beware._ He can’t recall why. He was always meant to be here to be fucked by... or was it fuck? There’s a space in his mind he can usually check, but it’s cut off from him in this state. Concerning? No. Not important. Mycroft nods. He cannot bear the feeling of being empty a second longer. “Please,” he rasps out, voice raw with the deep fucking of his throat. _Please_ was right before, it should be right now. He needs it. “Please.”

*

It still feels quite stunning, unbelievable, to see Holmes like that - and yet it suits him. He looks good like this, craning his neck to get more of the gentle touch coming from Jim's soft fingertips, begging to be filled again, to be taken by the very man he wanted to destroy just a handful of hours ago. 

Kissing Jim is coming home, reassuring himself and his lover of their tacit agreement, of their feelings, of their plan. It is needed, when the moment feels so intense, so incandescent. "Go get him, boss. Treat him like he's begging you to." Sebastian encourages quietly, voice a little rough, letting one hand run down Jim's side after their long kiss and taking his place in front of Holmes. His cock is way too sensitive to be used and, glancing around, he doesn't see any dildoes, so he just crouches, staring into grey eyes with his own, and brushing his fingers on Mycroft's lower lip. "This pretty mouth needs to be filled, doesn't it, sweetheart?"

*

Jim makes his way around the chair. No need for lube - he places himself in the right position, and pushes - hardly any resistance, smooth glide in, a satisfying moan from Mycroft. It is nice - tight, even after Sebastian's attentions earlier. "I bet you haven't been fucked much, have you, Mycroft? Such a shame to deprive yourself, isn't it? It's the best feeling in the world, surrendering, giving yourself, your body over... Especially for a man like you, always worrying, always arranging, always having to keep _everything_ in that head of yours... It's _so good_ to just release, isn't it? To not be the one who has to be _in charge_ , to just _be_ , be a body for others to use, be pain, be other people's pleasure..."

*

Oh. Moran is in front of him - Perfect, beautiful Moran, looking blissfully dishevelled. _I did that_ , Mycroft thinks with pride. _Me_. His lips part easily, jaw widening with a moan of surprised pleasure when Moriarty enters him with little enough preamble. Jim’s words wash over him, and they all seem so _true_ \- each one nudges his mind until he feels like it contains nothing at all... Emboldened, but strangely unable to speak - he’s not sure he remembers how - he juts his tongue out and licks along Moran’s fingers. He’s just a body to use, as Jim said...

*

Mycroft parts his lips so spontaneously, lascivious and open, filthy... It's a pleasure to see, it even makes his cock twitch again. Jim has taken his place, and Sebastian can't help but glance up when he drives into Holmes, words baring Mycroft's soul more and more. Jim pushes hard, but the other man's so relaxed he doesn't worry about being bitten. Holmes starts licking like a kitten and it is somehow endearing. His thumb runs over Mycroft's lower lip, soothingly, as blue eyes move up again, fond and proud of his man. There, there: sometimes power dynamics can be improved even without torture.

*

"You see, Mycroft, when you resist me, you suffer... there's unpleasant pain, there's all those lonely nights, that gnawing feeling of emptiness, the disappointment after an unsatisfying wank... So sad... But when you please me, there's such delight... I've given you this gift, Mycroft, this gift of surrender, of _peace_ in your head... the gifts of Moran's and my cocks fucking you... and you have been _so_ good, I'm going to give you one more gift... and you will love it..." Jim winks at Sebastian and nods down, towards Mycroft's cock, sadly neglected but hard as a rock.

*

Every touch from Sebastian feels lovely - like a gentle, deep pleasure, despite it being the simple stroking of Mycroft's lip. Everything feels wondrous, however - every touch, every thrust, every _word_... Jim is still speaking, of course, and Mycroft only feels half-cognizant of what's being said. He doesn't want to suffer, true. There was suffering earlier - his? Theirs? He can't recall, but it was nowhere near as pleasant as this. And there is so much pleasure - yes, that he's been given. It's generosity, isn't it? Benevolence on this mere body, fit only for their use. But he's been good, he _has_ , and now James is promising a reward because he's behaving so well. His eyes widen with a devoted and eager look toward Moran. _Gift? What gift?_

*

Oh, sweetheart. Moran almost feels endeared at that, and once again runs his hand through Mycroft's hair, now slightly damp with sweat. He does deserve it. Sebastian moves around, minding to never really break contact, and uses his free hand to grasp Mycroft's cock - gently, delicately the poor man is sensitive enough already. He strokes him slowly, not _quite_ knowing if this will be enough to make him come or if he'll have to insist, to play with him a little further. It's lovely, regardless, to see him writhe under his touch.

*

That's it. Mycroft is nearly insensible with delight and submission, exactly where Jim wanted him, and he'd nearly despaired of being able to get him there. He's intensely proud of himself for managing it - revenge, confirmation of his strength, his power - so needed after the weeks of torture he's had at the hands of this man. This man, who is the British Government, insensate under his command - fucking _perfect_. He feels himself get closer to release, and allows it - this has worked out perfectly, it's time to reward Mycroft, to make him feel the bliss that comes from surrendering to James Moriarty... God... He looks at Sebastian's eyes when he comes - with lust, with gratitude. All thanks to you, my beautiful Tiger...

*

Mycroft gasps openly when Moran's hand touches his cock; he moans when the man's large hand slides along his skin. He can feel Moriarty releasing, pulsing within him, and that is another point in his favour, isn't it? Another sign that he's done something _well_. At some point, he's not sure when, he stopped hanging on to the chair legs - now his head simply falls, with no one there to pay attention to, to _serve_ , eyes closed as he finds himself utterly awash in the sensations rippling through his groin. It half feels like too much, half not nearly enough - has he waited so long? Well, it doesn't matter, does it? Not his pleasure, not compared to the other two men at his back. He cries out, loud and open, as the conflux of feeling starts to coalesce back into a definable sort of pleasure. Whimpers follow as his body informs him how long he's waited and it works to stop suppressing itself - works to obey the gentle urging of Moran's hand toward climax.

*

It is all so good, so _intense_ , Sebastian doesn't know where to look… he is used to having full overview of any situation, though, so with a little effort he manages not to miss a thing: he can see Mycroft's body, almost limp in subspace, coming alive and offering him the pleasure he has forgotten he craved; he can see Jim's eyes, his face slightly flushed while coming inside Holmes and yet still so gracious... Their eyes meet for a long moment and Sebastian smirks softly, leaning over enough to brush a rough, light kiss on those lips. 

It is time to take care of them, again, to let Jim ride his pleasure after the horrible torture and, also, to take care of the lump at their feet - the most powerful man in London reduced to a quivering, happy, finally spent mess. He rubs his sticky hand on his side, roughly cleaning it, and moves to Jim properly, running one hand through his hair. "... think we have to keep him sane, now. He's weak; he's ours."

*

Orgasm - nice enough, Jim supposes. It's not about sex though - it's about power. And it's been well and truly proven who has the power in this basement full of sadists. He rolls his shoulders, still stiff from the many nights and days in uncomfortable positions, under the orders of this whimpering mess underneath him. It's so tempting to just start kicking him until his internal organs rupture... But Sebastian is right, of course - if he wants to get him well and truly stuck into the Web, the aftercare is essential - half the battle. He kisses Seb, quickly, then walks to Mycroft's front, squats down, strokes his hair, putting on his most gentle and caring face. "There... Mycroft... wasn't that great? Wasn't that the best orgasm you've ever had? Isn't it exquisite to just lie there and feel, not have to think? I know... I know Mycroft... It's so delicious, to let yourself go completely in the strong arms of a man like Moran... You did _so_ well, Mycroft, we are _so_ proud of you... Now... can you get off the chair? Careful... it's ok, we've got you... We won't let you fall, Mycroft, you're in safe hands... There you go, you rest a bit in Sebastian's arms... You've earned it... That's it, just close your eyes. I'll clean you up - don't startle, it's just a wet wipe, I'm cleaning you...This is a different wet wipe, I'm just cleaning your face, you've sweated a lot, working so hard for us... I know, it's hardest the first time... it will be easier next time... There, you're all cleaned up... just rest a bit, Mycroft... you deserve it." Jim kisses Mycroft on the lips, stroking his cheek, so tenderly...

*

There is a sea of words, and Mycroft is adrift on it. All good things, caring things, sinking against Moran, who he is leaning against. Clean and happy and cared for, which is what he wanted, isn't it? Especially in Moran's arms, as Moran is so pretty to look at. And Jim Moriarty, kissing him tenderly on the mouth. Why would Mycroft wish to be anywhere other than between these two men? He's on the verge of sleep when his mind begins to properly wake up. Which... is a problem. The tide of pleasant feeling is abating, and with it all of the alarm bells in Mycroft's mind that had been deadened threaten to go off again. He stiffens, suddenly overwhelmed, finding that tears are rapidly flooding his eyes. Christ, he's cried more today than he has in the last thirty-odd years. How long had they been there? Anthea could come in any minute - they could be found - and why does he still feel so... _affected_ by Moriarty? He was supposed to be torturing both of them, not- not... wanting to _please_ them. Why does he still want to please them? "What..." The words are rough, his throat hoarse, though he sounds more surprised than anything else. "What did you do to me?"


	7. The Aftermath

Jim practically hands Mycroft to him, coaxing him to curl up in Sebastian's embrace, and the sniper easily sets himself down, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, offering his chest and his body as Mycroft's personal bed. Strong arms wrap around Mycroft’s body as Jim cleans him up - where did those wipes come from? He doesn't know, but where Jim is involved, anything is possible. 

From this position, Sebastian can feel what is happening inside Mycroft, step by step, while Jim can probably just read it in his eyes… Eyes that wet easily, this time, without the resistance he could see earlier. However, along with liberation and comfort, self-awareness will come back at some point. It is shocking, the first times, and the stunned sound of Mycroft's voice confirms it’s no different for him. Without losing his cool, Sebastian lets his arms hug Mycroft a little closer, in a comforting way, and rubs his chest gently. "It's ok, Mycroft. We spent some good time together, we’ve helped you unwind and you've been incredibly good for us. If you're feeling shaken, it's ok. It happens to all of us, even to me. Crying is good, let it out. We got this. Relax."

*

Great work, Sebastian. You're the less threatening party here - his wariness of me should return first, if he has any sense - and he does. I will have to speak - but it's great that you're softening him up. 

Jim looks around - there are some bottles of water on a sideboard, and he goes to fetch three, puts on his most innocent face again as he sits down on the floor next to Sebastian and Mycroft, so Mycroft doesn't have to directly face him; opens a bottle of water, hands it to Mycroft. 

"Here you go... drink that." He opens another, hands it to Seb, and has the third himself. "It's been a very intense day, for all of us," he says, nodding at Seb to keep stroking Mycroft - it's good for him. "But - you need this, Mycroft. It makes so much sense - all that time spent having to run the _entire_ country, never able to switch off... it is such an _immense_ burden, and you bear it _so_ bravely. But - now you've tasted this - could you go back to a life without it? Never feeling that ecstasy of surrender... never feeling Moran's strong arms... never feeling my hard cock in your arse… 

It's a horrible thought, isn't it? You'd feel so empty... so unsatisfied... Back to your lonely nights, after your exhausting days…

It doesn't have to be like that, of course... We could arrange... visits... discreet, of course - we are _good_ at being discreet. I'm so sorry, Mycroft... I've been flirting with your brother, but you are _so_ much more interesting... I don't think I care so much about junior now I've seen the magnificence of the first-born... "

*

Mycroft sinks against Moran. It does feel comforting, to lean into the sniper's broad chest. He's... exhausted. Physically and emotionally. Yet some part of him _wants_ to cling. Is this typical? It certainly hadn't occurred any other time he'd had someone down here for a... session... but then again those times had been _nothing_ like this. He'd been in control, powerful - his mind had never turned off like that before - and despite his apprehension of it, and the tiredness wringing his very bones, he does feel... more relaxed. He lets Sebastian's touch soothe him, accepting the water like a... hrm. Why did his mind insist on phrasing it _like a good boy_? And why on earth did he _like it_? Moriarty is still talking, and the words roll through him, anchoring him in some core way, and he's nodding along obediently. He did... he did enjoy it. His mind has never quieted like that, he never went for drugs to still it like Sherlock did - and dammit, he _is_ the smarter of them, no matter how much Sherlock likes to flaunt himself. He deserves some sort of praise for it. 

"Yes." His voice cracks on the word and he can't fathom why he's _still crying_. "Yes, I... yes. I. Want that." "We-" _We._ So this is what's becoming of him now. A _we_ with the psychopath and the sniper. Well, what good fortune Mycroft is practised at the extreme bending - or ignoring - of her majesty's laws, when it comes to his personal needs. "We will need an exit strategy for the two of you."

*

Holmes is completely spent and doesn't look like he's going to stop crying anytime soon, but hell... Jim's words _worked_. Sebastian keeps him in his arms, knowing how important is now not to break the spell, to hold Mycroft through what has happened and the aftermath. The rare times when Jim has asked him to be put down in the past, he'd end up holding him for hours. It had been good. Holmes is lanky and definitely not so cute to cuddle, but it is still good... 

His words - those are even better. Sebastian's thoughts reel, but he decides not to speak for the moment, barely glancing at Jim as soon as those words are out. Jim is leading, that is right, and he is trying to make sure Mycroft Holmes will just _follow him_. With some gentleness, Sebastian brushes some of the hair off Mycroft's face, and lets him cry, safe in his arms.

*

Jim looks at the scene beside him - almost sweet, if you didn't know the participants. Sebastian is good at this, being supportive, being caring, and Mycroft seems to be sinking a bit further in those strong arms, leaning a bit more relaxed into Sebastian's chest, at the knowledge that this is not over - they'll get to do this again. 

Sebastian, my Sebastian - you really are the best at _everything_ you do, aren't you? Thank you for disobeying orders and coming here - you _never_ disobey me, but the one time you do, it turns out you were so much cleverer than your genius boss. You've given me _Mycroft_ to play with... _Mycroft Holmes_ , the one man more interesting than Sherlock, but the one man I was convinced was too dangerous to reach... You will get _anything_ you want, Sebastian, _anything_ , even if it is that fucking ring on your finger; it's not like I'll ever want to tie my life to anyone else's. But I think - I hope - you will be happy enough when I get you Sherlock... 

Jim drinks his water, not speaking. Mycroft has a lot to get out of his system, and he's going to give him all the time he wants to feel relaxed and held. He'd prefer to let Sebastian use his _other_ skills on Mycroft, but for now that's impossible - they have to get out of here - and for the future... It would be _so_ useful to have Mycroft as a pet.

*

Mycroft nestles - _nestles_ \- in Moran's arms. Both other men are quiet, but he can almost feel Moriarty thinking. They are similar in that regard, even if Mycroft's mind is not... operating at maximum efficiency. Or, rather - something in it has changed. There's a sense of... devotion... that he cannot explain. Logically it shouldn't be there, no matter the compromised state of his emotions - and he is certain those _are_ compromised, because he can feel them. Highly unusual. But that should not alter his fundamental self, and he would not consider himself _devoted_ to anything, not even crown or country. And he is fairly certain that no one who has ever experienced his particular form of entertainments in this room previously has become endeared to him, not like... Well. Certainly not immediately trying to work out how dangerous it might be to try it again. To have Sebastian's strong arms, now wrapping him so gently, holding him down - James's deadly murmur telling him how _good_ he's being... 

The sigh he lets out at the fantasy - the reliving of each moment - is audible, almost a moan, though Mycroft doesn't hear it at all. He must have closed his eyes at some point, because when he takes a breath to calm the thoughts it feels like waking, like dragging himself out of a sleepy haze, eyes finally starting to dry. 

"We ought to get dressed. They - she - could be back any moment. Need to... separate you again. You'll have to be let out individually. Make it look... like an unsuccessful session." He doesn't move to find his own clothes, however. In fact he doesn't move at all. Mycroft is far too comfortable for that. Would Moriarty hire out Moran just to hold him like this while he falls asleep? Perhaps fuck him first? They do not seem overly jealous, and Mycroft does have more interesting things than money to trade if payment is required...

*

For quite some time, Holmes seems completely out of it. He has closed his eyes and seems asleep, even if Sebastian is highly aware that kind of relaxed state doesn't mean sleeping, even with eyes closed. When he opens his eyes again, he seems to have stopped crying and he sounds just a little more in his own mind. His words move towards some sort of... solution. Sebastian is pleased with that, though even if Mycroft says they should move, he is not actually making any efforts towards that aim. Well, that's reasonable: a few more hours will be necessary for him to be back into his usual behaviour- though Sebastian is highly doubtful that Mycroft will ever be completely his old self, after.. _that_. 

He glances at Jim, as he keeps holding the other man, grounding him and offering him a safe harbour to rest. How _urgent_ is moving away? How delicate will it be to let Mycroft out of that room and his personal vulnerable state?

*

"We'd better move, Mycroft, if your charming assistant may come back - we wouldn't want to compromise our newfound understanding by having her witness... all this. I know your reputation means a lot to you," Jim says, a reluctant tone in his voice. He is not looking forward to being separated from Sebastian again - but the words 'be let out' were music to his ears. He gets up, gathers Mycroft's clothes, and ever so gently helps him dress, touching him, soothing him, keeping him in that dreamy state of soft afterglow as much as possible. He manages to make him look as impeccable as before he walked in - if you don't look too closely at the flushed face, the red eyes, the sweat-streaked hair. But - apart from the red eyes, Anthea would expect that. Clad Mycroft seems to gather some of his composure along with his clothes. Probably good, but he finds himself missing it, missing the dependence, the power over this remarkable man. Before he gets dressed himself, he grasps Sebastian close, just one moment, just - a few seconds just holding my Tiger, it's all I need, it will give me the strength to finish this last stretch - just - ten seconds -

*

Mycroft takes a while gathering himself, fixing his hair in the reflection of the metal covering the one-way mirror. The suit makes him feel a bit more like himself - or at least able to manage a suitable approximation. He only needs to hold it up long enough to get out - get home. Get into bed. God, he needs to sleep. He turns, letting the pair of them cuddle a bit longer before he gently clears his throat. 

“I... it will look less suspicious if I cuff you to the chairs again,” he says somewhat apologetically. “There will be others who will come and remove you to your cells. I shall complete the paperwork necessary to trigger your release - James should only take a few hours. Sebastian... I will strive for tonight, but it may be tomorrow. I’ll ensure they don’t touch you in the meantime, however. A break-in that some of the guards saw will be more challenging to cover up.” He picks up the restraints - but he finds he is disinclined to act until he’s given permission, even if it is what must be done.

*

Jim dresses Mycroft up impeccably, but Sebastian notices the little things, the way he keeps brushing him, pampering him, keeping him inside the game. 

Once he's done he doesn't start getting dressed... No, Jim moves right back into his arms, seeking some contact, their unique connection, the things no one but they know. It makes the sniper feel extremely important, grateful to a fault - if the most powerful man in the UK seeks his warmth, he must have done something good to earn it. Mycroft's words hit his ears while he's still wrapped around Jim, and, well, it sounds reasonable. He places a little kiss - last one for the moment - on Jim's lips and moves away, getting ready for that little charade. 

"I'm not worried about staying here a couple of days longer. I'm sure you'll do the best you can; besides, Jim's the priority," he says, getting ready and smirking when he sees the hesitation on Mycroft's face. 

"... I think you're allowed to tie us up, Mycroft, isn't he Jim? Do me first. He can help you out." … that isn't just true because Sebastian has been tied up by Jim more times than he can count, but it is also a good way to ensure Holmes won't try anything.

*

Jim is not pleased with the words 'a couple of days'. Mycroft's 'tonight but maybe tomorrow' sounds much better. He's exhilarated with what they've achieved here and the potential that they've unlocked - but now things are drawing to a close he remembers how exhausted and sore he is, and he just wants to go home and sleep - but he won't be able to if Sebastian isn't there. He'll just toss and turn and wake up from nightmares. 

"Yes, Mycroft, do what you must," he says - and chides himself. He must remain in control for Mycroft - not break character. Not now, after all this time. But he's _so_ tired. He watches Sebastian be locked to the chair, feeling a wave of panic inside his chest - _they're going to keep him, Mycroft has no reason to let him go, once he comes to his senses he'll change his mind, he'll keep Sebastian here forever as leverage_ \- presses it down with difficulty. As Mycroft comes to cuff him to his chair, he looks him into the eyes, and before he knows it - he speaks. "Try to get Sebastian out tonight, if you possibly can. Please." _What the FUCK, Moriarty!?!_

*

Mycroft blinks. Courtesy from Moriarty is unexpected and, in some deep way, confusing. But. He has a job to do. “I will,” he answers curtly - his voice, at least, making the proper shift back to the Ice Man, even if the rest of him is floundering. 

With Jim restrained as well, Mycroft does one last sweep of the room, eliminating any evidence of what has occurred with a practised eye. There will be no trace except the marks on their bodies, and even those will fade in time. He’s less sure about whatever has happened to his mind. The last thing to shift is the one-way mirror as he lowers the barrier over it. With that, their privacy is gone. Mycroft heads for the door, looking back with a brief, barely perceptible nod in the direction of the psychopath and his sniper, and departs to call for the guards who will separate the pair and return them to their cells until the careful adjustments to their paperwork Mycroft is about to make can be processed.

*

Mycroft is out. He left them, with just a last glance at him and Jim, without speaking, back out into the world. Back, out there, with his power. 

Sebastian should be worried but he realizes he honestly isn't... at all. Jim is with him - nervous, but that is understandable - and what just happened left him with a sense of... empowerment. It could work out...hell, it could be the best thing that ever happened to their business. He doesn't talk to Jim, he knows people are there, watching them. He knows Jim will make whatever move is best, and he relaxes, waits and keeps an eye on things - Sebastian's way too experienced to let his guard down at a moment like this.

*

That’s it. 

Overall, a good... afternoon? Night? Jim’s lost sense of time since he’s been here; no clocks, no windows, no sleep, meals at erratic times... He’s so glad he’s getting out of here. He thought he needed the information on Sherlock, but to be honest, Junior is looking boring now... Mycroft is so much more fun. He really hopes they can keep Mycroft... the _opportunities_ when one has the British Government to play with... 

But mostly, it’s been enough. He’s tired, he’s in pain, he’s stiff all over - he wants to go home and sleep for a month. With Sebastian. God, he needs Sebastian. He never knew - never needed to think about it. Sebastian was always just there, not something to be needed - like air or gravity. Being without him was one of the hardest aspects of this whole fucking interrogation, unexpectedly... and now the end is in sight and Sebastian is in sight, being without Sebastian is becoming a hardship that is very hard to endure. Please, Mycroft, get him home soon - and I’ll make sure our next appointment will be very pleasant indeed.

*

The paperwork is more challenging for Mycroft to concentrate on at first... until he realizes that this is for Jim. And he does still wish to please Jim. Somehow. Odd. 

Moriarty's is easy - they had been planning to release him, anyway, planning to free him to go play with Sherlock. Only Mycroft has a feeling it's not Sherlock he's interested in anymore, and it sends a ripple of vindictive pleasure through his core that for once _he's_ the desirable brother. Sebastian is more complicated. He entered a government facility that he shouldn't even know the location of, and people saw him. But perhaps not that many people... and the guards are notoriously lax with their paperwork... Mycroft reads through the file they started. Not detailed - they'd got a name from the biometrics, but only at the highest clearance levels. So. He methodically begins to reassign the details noted in to file to another one of their wayward soldiers, a Russian already in custody - and likely to stay that way permanently - who is similar to Moran in colouring and build. A few edits, and the break-in becomes an escape attempt, successfully stopped. Moran's cell is noted as a "person of interest, cooperating" and Mycroft signs a release order. He'll go out at five am, when the shifts have changed enough that no one who might have seen him come in will see him going out. He finds he doesn't feel that badly about it all, though his very bones are aching. Anthea's likely already called him a car - and he should get her out of the way as well. _Plausible deniability_. 

It's dark outside when he goes, and he just barely manages not to nod off in the vehicle. At home he strips and looks over the marks on his body, some of them already purpling. Surely it is not too odd if he strokes them, thickening his way to one more orgasm before he falls asleep. Surely.


End file.
